


Derek's Baby Boy--The Sequel

by GentlyWithAChainsaw



Series: Derek's Baby Boy [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Diapers, Forced Daddy/Baby, Forced infantilism, Kidnapping, Multi, Pacifiers, Sequel, Stockholm Syndrome, Unwanted rescue, forced age play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-06-05 16:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6712522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlyWithAChainsaw/pseuds/GentlyWithAChainsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has finally settled into life with his Daddy, but their newfound happiness is interrupted when humans storm their town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone rightfully pointed out that the one-shot collection should probably be separated out so there weren't five thousand universes going on. I figured it might be best to start a proper sequel to DBB here. I have a multi-chapter arc planned for the "rescue" storyline, and then we can go back to prompts.
> 
> There are a bunch of one-shots that fill in some of the stuff that's happened between DBB and the sequel, but you don't need to read those to understand this story.
> 
> If you haven't read Derek's Baby Boy, I definitely wouldn't start with this story! It won't make much sense and will probably just weird you out. Basically Stiles has been kidnapped and eventually came to believe that he belonged with his "Daddy," so even though he seems to be consenting to the situation I still consider it forced infantilism.

Usually Derek gets his work done during the day on his computer while Stiles plays in his playpen a few feet away. The bulk of his work has changed in the past few months— protocol now is to reach out to located werewolves online, feel them out and slowly introduce them to the idea of the community, before just flying out to get them. It’s supposed to cut down on risks, like the ambush Derek had stepped into a few months back. Still, it’s not especially taxing, so Derek gets it finished by dinnertime and spends the rest of the day with Stiles. 

Today, though, Derek has to go back to work after he’s put Stiles down for the night. He’s been in contact with a family up in Canada, but they’ve had no contact for forty-eight hours. All of his messages have gone unanswered. He has a sinking suspicion that he knows what that means, but he’s put off actually confirming it until the house is quiet. 

It doesn’t take him long to find the truth online. Two days ago a house fire killed the entire family. The news articles online are full of questions, but Derek knows the answers. He knows why the family was trapped in the basement, why the source of the fire hasn’t yet been determined. He knows. 

Hunters found them. 

He can’t stop poking the wound— reading the articles and the hopeful emails he’d exchanged with the family, looking at their photos and comparing. Remembering. Fire is the most effective way to kill werewolves in bulk, he’s not surprised more hunters have started using it. 

Every member of the family has been confirmed dead. No survivors this time. Maybe that’s a blessing. He feels a shade of the grief and fear and guilt twist at his insides and it’s like no time at all has passed, like he’s still that teenage boy watching it all burn— 

He closes the internet tabs, throat closing up, and finds himself staring at his screen background. Stiles, last Halloween, dressed as a pirate. Derek had found him a toy parrot to sit on his shoulder and an eyepatch. Derek’s desk is cluttered with pictures of the baby, even though he’s usually right there in the room while Derek works. He just likes it that way. 

He’s _not_ still the boy who trusted the wrong girl and let his family die. Look how far he’s come. Look what he _has_. The only humans in his life now aren’t a threat, and he doesn’t even hate them as a species anymore. How can he, when they’ve given him the best thing in his life. 

They’ll never come for him again. He’s in control now. He’s always in control. 

He feels marginally calmer, but there’s still something whining beneath his skin and he shuts off his computer, unable to do any more work tonight. He should just go to bed, but instead he walks down the hall to the nursery, creaking the door open to look in on Stiles. 

The baby is so sweet when he’s asleep. Derek can see him perfectly by the glow of the Mickey Mouse nightlight Stiles had recently become so attached to that he refuses to sleep without it. His thumb is in his mouth, legs tucked up in a loose fetal position. He doesn’t sleep with any pillows or blankets— that’s not safe for cribs and he’s plenty comfortable as he is— but Sheriff is clutched close to his chest as always. He looks young and peaceful and almost angelic. 

Derek walks softly over to the crib. He can’t stop thinking about the family of dead wolves and it fills him with a need to protect his pup. He unlatches the crib and reaches down, lifting Stiles out so he can cuddle him tight against his chest. 

Stiles yawns, eyelashes fluttering adorably. “D-Dada?” 

“Sh, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you.” 

Stiles smacks his lips as he wakes up and turns to look towards the window. “Daddy, it’s not even morning yet!” 

“I know, pumpkin. It’s just after midnight.” 

The baby’s eyes fly wide open, Derek has never let him be up nearly this late. “Wow!” 

Derek smiles and presses his lips to the baby’s forehead. He has to work hard to make sure Stiles has just the right babyish scent, but he’s pleased to see when he inhales that all he smells is power and lotion and No-Tears shampoo and the underlying sweetness that belongs to Stiles alone. There had been a sourness when he first came, Derek remembers. The faintest scent of something just starting to curdle. A product of being trapped with all those humans who didn’t care. Derek had saved him from that. “I’m sorry to wake you up, but I just missed you so much that I had to come say hello.” 

“I missed you too, Daddy.” Stiles snuggles against him willingly, always happy to be loved. “I miss you _all the time_ when you’re not here.” 

God, he so _perfect_. So sweet and adoring, so willing to let Derek be in control of _everything_. And that’s what’s most important in a relationship with a human, isn’t it? _Control_. The one thing he’d let Kate have completely. 

Derek shakes off the thoughts and turns his attention to the little boy in his arms. Stiles has his eyes closed and his thumb back in his mouth, more than ready to fall asleep again right in Derek’s arms. Derek can’t stand the thought of putting him back in his crib and leaving him. “Hey,” he whispers. “How about you sleep in Daddy’s room tonight, huh?” 

Even half-asleep Stiles’ grin could light up the room. Derek pauses only to grab his night-light out of the outlet before hurrying down the hall to his own bedroom. “Am I sick, Daddy?” Stiles yawns. 

“No, you’re absolutely perfect. Would you like to sleep in the bed, or do you want Daddy to set up your bassinet?” 

Stiles wrinkles his nose, he sometimes gets resistant to something as babyish as the bassinet. “Bed, pretty please.” 

“Okay.” Derek draws back the covers and carefully lays the baby down. He enjoys tucking his little boy in and he wonders if maybe he can introduce a blanket into the crib now that he knows Stiles can be trusted with it. Once Stiles is all snuggled in Derek gives him some goodnight kisses before getting into bed himself. 

Stiles makes a sleepy noise of protest. “No bedtime story?” he says imploringly. 

“You got a bedtime story earlier, pup.” 

“But that wasn’t real bedtime ‘cause now I’m woken up again.” 

“Hmm, I guess that’s true. Okay, here’s your story.” Derek curls around his little boy so he can watch as Stiles drifts back off to sleep. He doesn’t feel like making up some elaborate fairy-tale tonight, so he just fall back on an old favorite. “Once upon a time…there was a Daddy wolf who had a little pup. But the pup lived far away from him, in a bad yucky place, so the Daddy wolf had to stage a daring rescue. He had some nice people grab his pup and fly him away before anyone noticed, and then Daddy got to bring him home and make sure he stayed there safe forever and ever.” 

“That’s me,” Stiles coos happily. “I’m the pup.” 

“That’s right, you are! Maybe you should be the one to tell this story, since you know it so well.” 

“Nuh-uh. You’re the teller.” Stiles yawns. Seconds later there’s the faintest of snores from the little lump on Derek’s bed. Derek smiles, fumbling in the dark to land another kiss on the baby’s cheek before laying down and closing his eyes. 

Everything is all right. The human world might still be a dark, ugly place where werewolves aren’t safe, but Derek isn’t part of that world anymore. And more importantly, neither is Stiles. 

X 

When Stiles wakes up he’s confused for a moment about where he is before he remembers that Daddy came and got him last night. Daddy’s never done that before but Stiles is glad he did, he loves sleeping in Daddy’s bed. 

He turns his head and sees that Daddy’s already awake and on his laptop. Daddy smiles and kisses the tip of his nose. “Good morning, sweet boy, did you sleep all right?” 

“Uh-huh.” Stiles tries to clamor into Daddy’s lap. Daddy shuts the laptop and pulls him in for a cuddle. “Why’d I have to sleep in here, though?” 

“I told you, I missed you so much that I just had to come see you.” Daddy strokes the top of his head. 

“Maybe I should sleep in here every night so you don’t miss me again,” Stiles says craftily. He never ever has nightmares when he sleeps in Daddy’s bed. 

Daddy just laughs and tickles him until he’s squealing. “Now Stiles, do babies sleep in big-boy beds, or do they sleep in cribs?” 

Stiles pouts. “Cribs.” 

“That’s exactly right.” Daddy gets out of bed with him and walks him toward the nursery. “Now, we have a special day planned, don’t we?” 

For a second Stiles doesn’t remember, but then he claps his hands excitedly. “We’re baby-sitting Ally today!” 

Allison has been here a long time now but she still doesn’t understand completely that she’s a baby. This is the first time she’s ever been with a babysitter, Stiles is going to help so she doesn’t get scared. 

After Daddy changes his diaper and puts him in play clothes Stiles crawls all around his play area getting out toys for them. He’s excited. Allison is his cousin, he loves her a lot even though she can be fussy sometimes. It’s _forever_ before Uncle Scott and Aunt Kira come over. Allison is in Uncle Scott’s arms, hiding her face in his shoulder. 

“We’re a little fussy this morning,” Scott tells Daddy as he pats Allison’s back. “Someone doesn’t want Mommy and Daddy to leave. But we’ll come back very, very soon, and we’ll bring lots of surprises back for our little princess, won’t we?” He brushes hair away from Allison’s face and kisses her cheek. She whines and grips him tightly. 

“It’s the diaper changes,” Aunt Kira says to Daddy softly. “She’s never been changed by anyone but us and it’s making her nervous. So just…make them quick, and be sure to check up on her, she won’t tell you when she goes. She’s been good lately, so we’re trusting her without a pacifier, but there area f ew in the bag if she starts acting up.” 

“No problem.” Daddy reaches out for her as Scott gently unpeels her fingers from his shoulder. Allison wails when she’s finally transferred into Daddy’s arms and she reaches out for Scott. “No, Daddy!” 

“Oh, my baby! You’ll have lots of fun with Uncle Derek and we’ll be back tonight.” Scott kisses her about a hundred times, then Aunt Kira does the same thing before they’re finally ready to leave. Ally cries when they go and Daddy walks around with her, patting her back until she calms down. She’s got a stuffed bunny she’s clinging to, just like Stiles hugs Sheriff whenever he feels sad. 

“How about we play with your cousin?” Daddy says softly, sitting down on the floor and settling Allison between his legs. “Stiles, what do you want to play with?” 

Stiles hesitantly holds out his new Avenger figures, he knows Allison likes superheroes. He got them for his birthday. The have hinges at the arms and knees so they can bend, he loves them a lot. Daddy smiles at him and nods. “Okay, let’s all play.” 

Stiles gets Iron Man, since that’s his favorite, and Daddy takes Thor. Stiles thinks Allison should be Black Widow or Scarlet Witch since they’re girls but she shakes her head and reaches for Hawkeye instead, his bow can shoot real arrows. The best part of being Iron Man is getting to be in charge and Stiles sets up the battle against Captain America. He can’t wait to see the new movie. Daddy doesn’t like for him to watch grown-up movies like _Avengers_ but Uncle Peter always lets him watch them when he goes over to his house. It’s their secret but Stiles is pretty sure Daddy knows, Daddy knows _everything_. 

It takes Allison a little while but eventually she stops being upset and plays enthusiastically. Stiles has almost forgotten about her earlier tears when all of a sudden she freezes and glances nervously at Daddy. 

“Uh-oh,” Daddy says. “Did you use your diaper? Let’s get you clean, honey.” 

Ally shakes her head. “N-no, Uncle Derek! I didn’t!” 

“It’s okay,” Daddy says calmly, standing and walking over to the closet where he keeps the travel mat. “We’ll get you clean right here and then we’ll all have a snack, how does that sound?” 

“No!” Allison seems different, kind of older when she yells. 

“You don’t want to be in a yucky diaper until Mommy and Daddy get back, do you? No, that’s no fun.” Daddy lays out the mat and grabs Allison when she tries to kick him away. “Ally, sweetheart, you’re being silly.” 

“I hate you! _I hate you!_ ” 

Stiles feels sort of panicky. He doesn’t like when his friends are upset. “I’ll hold your hand!” he blurts, scooting over so he can grip her hand tightly. Allison stops screaming and stares at him, eyes wide and frightened. “It’s okay, Ally, Daddy goes really fast. And see, the diapers have Spiderman on them!” 

Daddy smiles at him. “That’s a good idea. Stiles will hold your hand and talk to you and I’ll be so quick you won’t even know I’m there.” 

Stiles lays down so he can put his head close to Ally’s. “Daddy says you’re going to have a birthday soon,” he says. “Birthday parties are the best, everyone brings you presents. I never had a birthday party _ever_ before I came here. It can be a swimming party or a pirate party, and one time one of my friends had a party at the zoo…” 

“All finished!” Daddy says cheerfully. “Now how about that snack?” 

Allison doesn’t cry again, but she’s subdued after they have their snack. Daddy leaves them to play while he goes upstairs to make some calls, but once he’s gone Allison puts down the blocks they’d been playing with and turns away. 

“I don’t want to play anymore,” she mumbles, crossing her arms tightly. 

“Oh. D-do you want to play racecar, or…” 

“I don’t want to play anything.” She’d starting clutching the bunny again, but suddenly she tosses it across the room. “I want to go home!” 

“Uncle Scott—” 

“Not with them! My _real_ home.” 

Stiles sighs, she’s being silly again. If she keeps saying this dumb stuff Daddy will have to give her a pacifier and then they won’t be able to play at _all_. “This is our real home.” 

“No, it’s not! You used to live somewhere else, remember? _That_ was your real home, this is just a…a prison!” 

“No! Stop it!” Stiles draws his knees up to his chest. “That place before was bad, and I wasn’t even supposed to be there.” 

Allison’s face is red with anger and her lip is poked out. “Yes, you were, _stupid!”_

“Not stupid! I was Daddy’s pup all along but didn’t know it, Daddy knew and came and found me. Just like you were always supposed to be Uncle Scott and Aunt Kira’s little girl, and now they found you, and you’re where you’re supposed to be and you can’t ever leave, so _there!_ ” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Daddy hurries into the room and picks Stiles up, hugging him tight. “What’s going on in here?” 

Stiles’ eyes get hot. He feels bad for yelling at Allison, even though it wasn’t nice for her to call him stupid. “I…I…” 

“Was Ally having big-girl thoughts?” Daddy asks gently, sitting down on the couch with Stiles and reaching down so he can pick Allison up too. “Oh, honey. It’s okay. All those silly thought will go away soon, I promise. Won’t that be nice? Stiles remembers how nice it is when you can finally put all those bad thoughts away.” 

Stiles nods and then hides his face in Daddy’s shoulder so Allison won’t see him cry. He can hear Ally sniffling a little. “I want my bunny,” she says tremulously after a few minutes. 

“Okay, honey.” Daddy gets it for her and then they all just cuddle on the couch for a long time. Stiles likes feeling Daddy’s chest rise and fall and he almost drifts off to sleep. Eventually the doorbell rings and Uncle Scott and Aunt Kira come in. Allison is asleep and Daddy carefully gives her to Scott. Ally mumbles in her sleep and snuggles in tight, thumb in her mouth. 

Daddy makes a bottle for Stiles and carries him upstairs for bedtime. “Daddy?” Stiles asks a little nervously after he’s in his jammies. “This is my real home, right?” 

He’s afraid that Daddy will be mad at him for asking such a silly question, but Daddy just smiles and kisses his forehead. “Of course it is! Do you know why?” 

“Because…because…” 

“Because I’m here,” Daddy says simply. “ _Your_ home is wherever I am, and _my_ home is wherever you are because we’re each other’s favorite people in the whole world. There’s a saying that _home is where the heart is_ , and, well, you already know that you’re my whole heart, don’t you?” 

Stiles smiles, it always makes him happy deep inside when Daddy says nice stuff like that. “Uh-huh.” 

“So it doesn’t matter _where_ we are, we’re always in our real home when we’re together.” Daddy gives him five whole bedtime kisses and Stiles gives him one back before Daddy puts him in the crib with Sheriff. “Goodnight, pumpkin.” 

“Night-night, Daddy.” Stiles closes his eyes, His last waking thought is of Allison. It’s sad that she’s still so fussy about things. He hopes that someday she can be a happy baby like he is. 

**One Week Later**

Today Derek is taking Stiles to the beach. It isn’t _really_ a beach, at least not one made by nature. There’s a lake in their community and sand was added at its shoreline. A maintenance crew makes sure there are plenty of seashells and little minnows and crabs so the little ones can play to their hearts’ content. 

Stiles doesn’t care that it’s man-made, of course. He’s so excited that he was up at four a.m., shouting for Derek in the monitor. Derek knew full well that he wouldn’t just fall back to sleep, so he went to go get him. He lifted the yammering Stiles from his crib, carried him into Derek’s bedroom, and got back into bed, letting the baby sit on his chest and talk excitedly while Derek half-dozed. Eventually Stiles tired himself out, stuck his thumb in his mouth, rolled off of Derek, and promptly fell back to sleep. 

They’d gotten a bit of a late start because of it but Stiles is once again raring to go as Derek dresses him in his swim trunks and tosses an old t-shirt of Derek’s over it as a cover-up. “Hurry, Daddy!” Stiles urges as Derek puts him into his carseat. 

“Ah-ah, what does Daddy always say?” 

“Buckle up for safety, buckle up for fun,” Stiles says obediently, sitting still while Derek buckles him in. 

“Good boy.” Derek kisses him and shuts the door. He’s in a good mood. Stiles is going to love the beach, Derek is bound to get some adorable photos of him, and Scott messaged this morning to say that the babysitting last week definitely helped with Allison’s regression. Things are going well for everyone. 

“Daddy, can we collect seashells?” Stiles asks as Derek starts up the car. 

“Well, of course, pup, how else are we going to decorate our sand castle?” 

Stiles squeals and swings his feet. Derek has packed several buckets for seashell-collecting purposes. Tomorrow he’ll give Stiles a chart so he can identify what kinds of seashells he’s picked, his baby loves research-type games like that. And he figures there are probably arts and crafts that use seashells. Derek refuses to get Pinterest, so he doesn’t know, but whenever Isaac over to babysit he loves to get out the glue and glitter so Stiles can proudly present a dilapidated craft to Derek up on his return. 

He turns down into the main street of town, mind drifting to whether or not he’ll be able to get Stiles home in time for a nap or if they should just skip naptime today. He’s just pulled to a stop at the light when there’s a _bang_ right from the center of town. 

Derek freezes and throws the car in park. He can hear screaming and see smoke— an explosion. Something terrible has happened. Without a second thought he unbuckles and opens the door. “Don’t move,” he barks at Stiles, catching a single quick glimpse on him in the rearview, frozen in fear with his thumb halfway to his mouth. 

The smoke gets thicker as he moves closer, and when he inhales it stings his lungs. A wave of dizziness overtakes him. Someone is running towards him, a werewolf he barely knows from another pack. Her skin is blistering. “Wolfsbane,” she shouts. “It’s a wolfsbane bomb!” 

Derek’s skin prickles from fear and the poison. Someone has brought wolfsbane into the community. Humans are here. He starts to turn back towards his car when shots ring out. 

He drops automatically, covering his head. He can smell them now, through the smoke. They must have rigged the explosion to go off remotely. He doesn’t know how they found the community, or how they got past the guards at the border. It doesn’t matter right now. He starts to crawl back to the car, only to feel the ground rock with a second explosion. 

There are more screams. 

Derek flattens himself on the ground. He can see people in what looks like riot gear running into the stores on the main street. The gunfire is constant and deafening, like the drumline at a football game. They must be trying to take out the whole town. 

He has to get back to Stiles. His eyes are stinging with the poison smoke, skin blistering and lungs burning, but he forces himself to move. A white van speeds past him and shudders to a stop. More humans jump out, armed to the teeth. 

A piercing shrieks breaks through the sound of gunfire and he watches as a human half-drags someone towards the van. The person is writhing and screaming, calling for their Mama. One of the babies. The invaders aren’t killing the humans, they’re kidnapping them. 

“Daddy! _Daddy!_ ” 

Derek looks back towards his car and sees two humans pulling Stiles out. They try to get him on his feet, but his legs buckle. He’s frantic, sobbing and trying to push them away. “Daddy! _Help me!”_

“Stiles!” Derek forces himself to get up. He shifts in midair, charging towards his baby. They’re trying to take his pup, his sweet boy. He has to stop them. His teeth bare in preparation for the kill. 

Something hits him and knocks him out of the air. It burns him up from the inside, a deep spreading pain in his midsection. The fuckers shot him. He blacks out for a second and when he wakes up he’s human again and he can hear Stiles screaming and screaming. 

“Stiles,” he mumbles, trying to turn. His vision is blurry but as he watches the humans toss Stiles into the back of the truck. 

The sound of the gunfire changes— there’s a volley, and then a reply, as though someone is shooting back. The police, or maybe the people who guard the border. Derek tries to stand but he can’t move. _Stiles_ … 

“Retreat!” someone shouts. 

The back doors to the van slam shut. Humans are running towards it, and seconds later another one pulls up. They’re jumping inside, doors shut behind them, and then the vans start to move. They’re getting away. 

There’s still gunfire, but a desperate voice cuts above it: “Don’t shoot the trucks! There are babies in there!” 

_Shoot the tires_ , Derek tries to roar, but he can’t make his voice work. All that comes out is a furious, strangled roar as the vans disappear through the smoke, racing towards the border with his little boy inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles doesn’t know what’s going on. There had been a bang and then Daddy said to stay put and all of a sudden everything was smoky and scary and bad people were pulling him out of his car seat. 

It’s dark where they put him and everything’s swaying, like they’re moving. He can hear the other babies yelling and crying. There are maybe fifteen of them in there. 

Through the little bit of light he sees someone he recognizes: Jackson. He looks absolutely terrified and Stiles tries to crawl over to him. It’s hard with the truck pitching back and forth but eventually Stiles reaches him. “Jackson!” 

Jackson stares at him, then bursts into tears. Stiles cries too and throws his arms around his friend. They cling to each other. “I want my Mommy!” Jackson sobs. “I want my Mommy!” 

There’s not a single Mommy or Daddy here, it’s just the babies. But Daddy has to come, right? Daddy always comes. Daddy promised that if he and Stiles were ever separated he would travel the whole world to get Stiles back. “Daddy’s going to come,” he promises Jackson. 

“M-my Daddy got _shot_. We were s’pposed to go to the toy store but Daddy said he needed to stop by the station quick and I was being good, I was waiting outside, and then there were bangs and Daddy ran out and told me to hide, but…” Jackson’s breath comes in gasps. “They r-ran in and shot my Daddy and grabbed me and _what if my Daddy is dead?_ It ends on a wail and Stiles squeezes his friend tight. 

“He’s not! I promise, Jackson, he’s going to come with my Daddy and everything is going to be okay. I _know_ it.” 

“Daddy said— Daddy said it was humans shooting!” 

That sends a jolt of fear down Stiles’ spine. Humans are very, very bad, unless they’re like Stiles and Jackson and the other babies, that’s why Daddy had to rescue him from them. These humans probably want to hurt him and he’s too little to fight them like Daddy can. 

But it’s okay. They won’t be alone for long. Stiles couldn’t see where Daddy went through the smoke, but he’s probably chasing after them right now. He’ll be here any second. 

But the truck just keeps swaying, moving for so long that Stiles is sure they have to be far away from the town, and Daddy never comes. 

X 

Now that Allison has gotten a little “bigger” she’s been given more privileges during the day. Scott and Kira let her play by herself in the living room, either in her playpen or on the carpet. Some days she’s in the mood to actually play with the toys and some days she just sulks, sitting by herself until someone comes in and gets her. 

Today she’s on the carpet, surrounded by paper and new glittery markers. Scott had left her here with them about twenty minutes ago with the suggestion that she “make something pretty for Mommy.” She could just make a single scribble and she knows they’ll fawn all over it and tape it to the fridge. 

But whatever, she’s bored. She starts to draw mindlessly. After having been here several months she knows things go much better for her when they think she’s playing along, so she tries to draw Kira, making glittery stars all around the border of the paper. 

Did she used to like playing with markers when she was a kid? She can’t remember. She remembers endless piano lessons…being afraid of her grandfather…not being allowed to go to birthday parties because “you don’t need those people as your friends.” 

Whenever she thinks of her real childhood, and her real parents, she feels sort of angry and sad and her thoughts try and fight away. That has to be a result of their conditioning; they’re always telling her she “doesn’t have to think about those yucky people, all those bad people who didn’t take good care of little Ally.” But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t remember any good right now. 

She hears the phone ring and goes on drawing. Soon Scott or Kira will come in with a bottle, over the past week that’s all she’s had to eat. The bottles are filling, at least, but she has to drink them in the lap of either Scott or Kira. They always hum to her and rub circles on her belly and stroke her hair, surrounding her with affection as she takes in the nourishment— and it feels good. 

And that, she knows, is _bad_. 

It takes her a few minutes to realize anything is wrong. Scott’s voice is rising as he talks on the phone, but Scott can be excitable sometimes so she doesn’t think much of it. Then he yells for Kira, voice trembling, and Kira comes rushing downstairs. “What is it?” she asks, voice hushed but still loud enough to hear. 

Scott’s voice drops but Allison catches a few words. “Explosion— humans— main street—babies…” 

“Oh, my God.” Kira’s voice breaks. “How many?” 

“Stiles— ” Scott’s voice drops again but now he has Allison’s full attention. She likes Stiles. Sometimes she gets frustrated with him, because he’s so far under, but he’s so sweet. She strains to hear, but they’re talking too quietly. A few moments later the phone rings again. 

This conversation lasts for several minutes before Scott comes into the living room, looking stunned. He makes a beeline for Allison and grabs her up, hugging her tightly. “My precious baby girl,” he whispers, lips hovering at her temple in a constant kiss. “Oh, Ally. Daddy would never, ever let anyone hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” 

She nods hesitantly. “W-what happened, Daddy?” He doesn’t answer, just squeezes her tightly. “Is Stiles okay?” 

“I hope so, honey. Some bad, bad people came and took him away and hurt your Uncle Derek. But Uncle Derek’s going to be okay and we’re going to get Stiles back. I promise.” 

She remembers him saying _humans_ and her heart leaps. “B-bad…humans, Daddy?” 

“Yes, Ally. Bad humans came and took some of the babies away. But we’ll find Stiles and the others and make sure those bad people can never, ever come back.” 

Allison can’t believe it. Rescuers came to town and she missed her chance. It’s a crushing disappointment to think how close she came to freedom— here she was, playing with her glittery markers and thinking about how much she wanted a bottle, while only _miles_ away the real world came tantalizingly close. 

Scott thinks the tears in her eyes are due to fear for Stiles and he croons to her, shifting her so her head rests against his collarbone. “It’s all right, my beautiful girl. Mommy and Daddy are right here.” 

Kira joins them, stretching her arms around Scott so they’re both hugging Allison. “We love you so much,” she tells Allison, looking a little misty-eyed herself. “You’re our perfect little princess. Nobody will ever take you away.” 

Even though her sadness isn’t due to concern for Stiles— Allison is sure he’s safer now than he ever was here— she still lets herself cry and be comforted by soft voices and backrubs and kisses. Eventually Scott has to leave and Kira lays down with Allison on the couch, keeping her held close until she’s cried herself out completely. 

X 

The town has a protocol in place for emergencies like this, and minutes after the trucks have gone paramedics are rushing out to aid the people in the street. Derek drifts in and out of unconsciousness but wakes up for good in the hospital with a bandage over his shoulder. 

Scott is there, looking tragic. Derek struggles to sit up. “Stiles,” he rasps. 

Scott shakes his head. “They sealed us off, Derek. They managed to circle us in with mountain ash. Some of the humans are breaking the line now, but the trucks got away.” 

Derek orders himself not to panic. “Do we know who they are? Where they’re going?” 

“People are working on it. They only took humans, so they might be trying to lure us into a trap. Or it was just— ” Scott grimaces. “A _rescue_.” 

“Is Allison…?” 

“At home with Kira. Thank God, she’s not nearly regressed enough to be away from us. We lost fourteen. They took Jackson, Parrish’s little boy. Parrish was shot too, but he’ll be fine. We got lucky. No civilian deaths, which indicates they came here for the little ones. We just can’t figure out how they knew.” 

Derek shudders and painfully gets out of the bed. “For all we know they’re planning on coming back.” 

“The border is heavily guarded. The only casualties were there— they shot the guards to get their trucks through. It’s like they had a fucking map of the place. There must be a leak somewhere, right? How else could the information get out into the human world?” 

“I don’t…” Derek trails off. Information _has_ been getting out into the outside world. The emails he and other recruiters have been exchanged with werewolves still living with humans. The family who had been killed last week— Derek had told them so much about the Society. The guarded border to protect against intruders; the role of humans here… 

Maybe they were tortured before they were killed. Maybe the hunters got access to their email and used it to locate Beacon Hills. 

This is Derek’s fault. 

“Oh, shit. _Shit_.” Derek wants to punch something; _kill_ something. His poor little boy is all alone right now, terrified out of his mind, trapped with humans who could do God knows what to him, and it’s Derek’s fault. He should have realized those emails could have been seen by hunters. He should have reported it. “We have to get to the Nemeton,” he says tightly. “We’ll need magic to find them.” 

Stiles might be a hundred miles away by now, but Derek will find him. He’s Stiles’ Daddy. Protecting him, fidnign him, _saving_ him— that’s what he’s meant to do. 

X 

Eventually the swaying of the truck lulls most of the babies off to sleep. Jackson slumps against Stiles, thumb in his mouth and face still wet with tears, but Stiles can’t sleep. He needs his night-light and his puppy to sleep. 

His tummy is hungry. If Daddy was here he would give him a bottle and then pat his back to get all the gas out, and then he would cuddle Stiles close and say, _There, now your tummy is nice and full, isn’t it, sweet boy?_

Thinking about Daddy makes him want to cry, but not thinking about him is worse. He needs to imagine Daddy is here right now or he’ll be so scared he won’t even be able to _breathe_. He shuts his eyes tight and pictures Daddy: his smile and the stubble he rubs against Stiles’ cheeks and the rise and fall of his chest when they cuddle together all tight. He imagines that Daddy is holding him right now and whispering, _don’t be scared, my little prince, Daddy is right here. Daddy won’t let anything happen to you._

_But Daddy, bad humans are here._

_Sh, sh. Daddy won’t let them hurt you._

The movement of the truck stops. Jackson wakes up, whimpering when he remembers where they are, and they exchange glances of silent dread before the back door to the truck opens. The sound wakes everyone else up and the truck fills with wails and whimpers again. 

A man leans in, hands up as if he’s trying to say he’s not going to hurt anyone. “It’s okay,” he says. “You’re all safe now.” 

Stiles slumps in relief. The werewolves must have found them and killed all the bad humans. “Daddy?” he shouts, hoping Daddy is here looking for him. That prompts the others to all yell for their Mommies and Daddies too and there are a few moments of chaos before the man shouts at them to be quiet. 

“Hey! Calm down! Like I said, you’re all safe now. Those monsters will never hurt you again. We’ve brought you somewhere safe and soon we’ll find out where you came from and get you back home, all right?” 

Jackson looks at Stiles in terror. “Bad humans,” he whispers. 

Stiles nods. He doesn’t know what to do. The man hesitates, waiting to see if they move, but when they just stare at him with stricken expressions on their faces he sighs and opens the door a little wider. “O-kay,” he says, sounding annoyed. “How about I help?” 

The first little girl he tries to pick up screams and screams, curling into a ball. That’s a good idea, Stiles knows it’s really hard to be picked up when you’re all curled up like that. He remembers one time he’d been throwing a temper tantrum and rolled onto the floor just like this girl is doing, and Daddy couldn’t even pick him up, so he just curled around Stiles and rubbed his back, whispering _sh, sh,_ until Stiles was calm. 

The man yells for backup and soon the truck is full of people trying to wrestle babies out. A woman tries to grab Stiles under the armpits and he kicks out at her. ‘Go away!” he shouts. 

“Jesus Christ.” The woman looks amazed. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Take me home! I want to go home!” 

The woman snorts and shakes her head. “You poor kid. Listen to me, and listen good. You are never, ever going back to that place again.” 

Stiles screams until his throat is sore. The woman calls for someone else and together they lift Stiles up and carry him bodily out of the truck. They’re at a little building all surrounded by trees, like maybe they’re in the woods or in the mountains somewhere. Stiles looks around frantically, hoping to see wolf eyes in the distance, but all he sees is forest before he’s carried inside and taken to a little room. 

He doesn’t want to be alone. He wants Jackson. He hugs himself around the middle, wishing with all his heart he at least had Sheriff to cuddle. He doesn’t like being alone, not even when he’s in his crib, that’s why Daddy always stays until he’s asleep. _Daddy, I’m scared, I’m so scared._

When the people come in he’s wedged himself into the crack in the corner of the room. It’s a man and a woman, both with guns in the holsters at their hips. They stop short at the table in the middle of the room and just look at him. 

“You want to sit?” the man says, nodding towards the table. 

Stiles shakes his head. He doesn’t like being in the same room as these people. He knows he used to live with humans but that was before he knew they were all bad. 

The woman sighs and comes to get up, pulling him to the table and manhandling him into the chair. It’s been a long time since Stiles has been seated somewhere without a strap to hold him in and he grips the table desperately, afraid of falling. 

The man and woman take seats opposite him. “So let me guess,” the woman says. “We’re going to hear the same thing from you we heard from the others, right?” She pitches her voice into a high mocking parody. “ _I don’t like you, take me home, I want my moooommy…”_

“Carrie,” the man says disapprovingly. “Enough. They’re victims.” 

“They’re useless. He needs to snap out of it, because I'm sure as fuck not putting up with this shit for weeks.” 

The man sighs and tries to smile at Stiles. It doesn’t look right on his face. “Can you tell me your name?” 

Stiles hesitates. He doesn’t know if it’s safe. “S-Stiles.” 

“Is that your real name? What about your last name?” 

He has two last names now. He doesn’t know which one he’s supposed to give so he just clamps his mouth shut. 

“Can’t you tell me your full name? We can use it to find your real family.” 

“You took me from my real family,” he whispers. He wants to suck his thumb but the mean lady will laugh at him. 

“You were with them a really long time, huh?” The man waits. “You can tell me about it, if you want. For instance, I heard there’s magic in your town. Is that true?” 

Stiles’ mouth falls open. How do they know about that? 

“What kind of magic is it? Do you think they might be able to use it to find you?” 

The Nemeton. Daddy can use the Nemeton to find him. Stiles feels much, much better, with the Nemeton Daddy will be able to find him anywhere he goes. His smile must be answer enough for the man because he nods and exchanges looks with the woman. 

“Ask him how long it will take,” the woman mutters to the man as if Stiles can’t hear her. 

“Soon,” Stiles says happily. He isn’t really sure, but he knows Daddy won’t wait, he must be on his way right now. “They’ll be here _very_ soon.” 

To his surprise the woman looks pleased. “Good. Just as we hoped.” 

The man frowns at her again. “Enough,” he says quietly. 

“W-wait.” Stiles feels panicky again. “Why’s that what you hoped?” 

“Well, we knew better than to launch a full assault on _their_ home turf. So we were in and out before they had a chance to fully respond. And we took something we knew they would chase.” The woman leans back in her chair, smirking. “So we’re very glad they’ll be here soon, because we’re ready for them.” 

Stiles feels sick. He knows that Daddy is stronger than almost anyone in the world, but humans hurt him before. He’d almost _died_. “Please,” he whispers. “Please don’t hurt my Daddy.” 

“Oh, my God.” The man looks heartbroken. “You poor kid.” 

X 

Derek stops by the house to grab something of Stiles’ to take to the Nemeton. He’s never used the tree’s magic to track before, but he figures it might need something of Stiles, something with his scent. Maybe that’s idiotic; the Nemeton isn’t some tracking dog. But Derek isn’t leaving anything to chance. 

Sheriff is in Stiles’ crib. The baby had wanted to take him to the beach but Derek had worried it might get wet or sandy and told Stiles they had to leave him here. He picks up the dog and hugs it. It smells like his little boy. 

“Ready?” Scott asks softly from the doorway. 

“Yeah.” Derek turns and catches sight of his Stiles’ Mickey Mouse nightlight. It’s like his heart cracks in two. Stiles has been so afraid of the dark recently, he would have terrible nightmares about being trapped in a cave without Derek. For weeks Derek was being woken up every other night to sobs in the baby monitor and a heartbroken wail: _Daddy, daddy…_

“His nightlight,” he says. His chest hurts. “He doesn’t have his nightlight.” 

Scot doesn’t say anything, just puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Stiles is afraid of the dark.” Derek’s voice cracks. If he’d only gotten to the family in Canada sooner. If he’d only moved a split second faster this morning. If he’d only had _control_ of the situation like he’s always supposed to… 

“You’ll get him back, Derek. By tomorrow he’ll be back in his crib. He’s brave and he’s tough deep down. He’s going to be all right.” 

“I just…I keep thinking, what if they hurt him?” 

“I know.” 

“Or what if they…what if they revert him?” The moment it’s out of his mouth Derek regrets it. Stiles can’t be reverted. He’s been here so long. He loves Derek. He’s the happiest, most adoring little boy in all of Beacon Hills. But Derek imagines finding him and not even _recognizing_ his sweet boy. Seeing instead a sneer, cold eyes, a face full of disgust and fear at the very sight of Derek. Just another human past the point of rehabilitation. 

Stiles is so special. He’s not like other humans. But what if they try to stamp that specialness out of him, and Derek can’t get it back? 

He shudders and hurries for the door, Sheriff under his arm. He imagines his baby right now, terrified and waiting for Derek to rescue him. _Don’t worry, my sweet boy,_ he thinks. _Daddy will be there soon._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I made you wait on this! But this chapter is super-long if that's any consolation!  
> Also, CountryKitchen over at Tumble made BABY STILES FANART!  
> [](http://postimg.org/image/llpmzlsn5/)
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> Look at his widdle red cheeks! And Sheriff! Thank you so much, CountryKitchen!

Derek isn’t the only person to head for the Nemeton. At the edge of the woods he meets Lydia, Jackson’s Mommy, eyes red-rimmed but free of tears for the moment. 

“Jordan’s fine,” she says in response to Derek’s look. “It seems that the humans tried to be nonlethal. Not a single civilian death. He’s still in the hospital, but he insisted I start…doing what I can for Jackie. They took Stiles too?” 

“Yes. I don’t know who else…” Derek throws a panicked look to Scott, he completely forgot to ask. “Donovan?” 

Scott shakes his head. “At home with Peter. He’s having a meltdown. Peter’s trying to calm him down.” 

That should be a relief, but Derek finds himself wishing Stiles was surrounded by familiar faces. “Let’s get to the Nemeton. Hopefully the mountain ash barrier will be broken by the time we know where to look.” 

But when they get to the Nemeton, someone is already there. Deucalion, leader of the only alpha pack in Beacon Hills— and thus the town’s de facto leader— is leaning against the Nemeton almost casually, as though indifferent to its power. “Let me guess,” he says softly, chin lifting as though he’s scenting the air to identify them. “Here to try and track down your babies?” 

Derek bites off an impatient growl. “Here to try and stop us?” 

“You’re welcome to find out where they are, but you won’t be getting them back just yet.” Deucalion raises a hand to stop their protests. “The humans came in, grabbed about fifteen hostages, and left. They’re obviously trying to lead us off our turf into a trap. I’d really rather not lose some of our finest people— including several alphas. We’ll figure out where they are, stake them out, and attack when we’re ready, not a moment before.” 

“And how long do you think that will take?” Lydia snaps. 

Deucalion shrugs carelessly. “A week?” 

“A _week?_ ” Derek’s fangs pop out. Absolutely ridiculous, to think he’ll leave Stiles in their clutches for that long. “No.” 

“I imagine they’ll have escaped to someplace with reinforcements. We can’t have a single human alive who knows about us, so everyone involved with them has to die. To achieve that goal, we have to be as prepared as possible when we attack.” 

“What gives you the right to make this call?” 

“I don’t keep humans as…coddled pets, or babies, whatever you want to call them. I’m objective, more experienced, and smarter than any other alpha here, including you. And if you’re thinking of disobeying, you’ll be putting the entire population at risk. If the humans don’t kill you, I will.” Deucalion’s voice softens. “I’m not saying it will be a week for sure. I’m just asking that you wait so we can all respond cohesively and forcefully. Think of your little humans. What will happen to them if you run in there half-cocked and get killed?” 

Derek wants to argue, but he finds to his horror than no words come. The analytical alpha side of him knows that Deucalion is right. It’s smart to wait; _vital_ to wait. But another side of him just needs Stiles back _now_ , safe and trusting and adoring in Derek’s arms. 

He reaches out past Deucalion and puts his hand on the tree. He accepts the mysteries of magic where they stand, never bothering to ask _why_ or _how,_ so he doesn’t waste time wondering if this will work or not. He just closes his eyes and thinks of Stiles. It’s like the tree grabs hold of the thought and suddenly it’s like Derek is right there with the baby, looking through his eyes and feeling what he feels. 

_Scared._

 _Alone._

 _

Daddy, please come. Please, Daddy, please…

_

Derek pulls his hand away with effort. Immediately Stiles’ feelings and thoughts are gone, but there’s a quiet certainty in his chest that wasn’t there before. “I can track him,” he says quietly. 

Lydia’s hands hover at the bark. “You’re sure?” 

“Yes.” Derek knows that once the mountain ash line is broken he’ll be able to follow the path of the truck without any problems. “It’s like…like knowing the way home instinctively.” 

“Then you can lead a group,” Deucalion says, a hint of an order in his voice. “To stake out their location. Nothing more.” 

To be that close to Stiles, but to just _wait_ to grab him. Every fiber of Derek’s being goes against it. But he knows that it’s the surest way to get him out safely. “All right,” he says gruffly. “That’s what we’ll do.” 

_Oh, my little boy. Forgive me._

X 

Stiles is left alone for a while, and it doesn’t take long before he’s squirming uncomfortably. Daddy had put him in a special diaper today, a big thick one that could be in the water, but he’s afraid to use it because nobody is here to change him. 

Eventually he can’t hold it in any longer and he whimpers in distress as he goes. Usually it feels kind of nice to use his diaper, because Daddy changes him right away, but it gets cold and yucky fast. 

He curls up in the corner again, sniffling. He’s hungry, too. He thinks longingly of bottles, and the lollipops Aunt Erica brings him, and sweet potato, and chocolate ice cream… 

The door bangs open and the man from before walks in. He’s got a funny look on his face. “Shit,” he says, staring at Stiles. “Are you…ah. You need help?” 

Stiles just stares back at him. He knows the man is bad, because he’s human, but he’s at least nicer than the mean woman from before. “I went potty,” he whispers. 

“Yeah.” The man scrubs his hand over his face tiredly. “You’re not the first. You know how to use the toilet?” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“You’re going to have to learn, because we don’t have any diapers here. Come on.” The man tries to pull him to his feet, but Stiles’ legs give out. The man huffs. “Why can’t any of you walk?” 

“W-we’re too little.” 

“Jesus.” The man pulls him out of the room and down the hall, stopping at a bathroom. He walks Stiles into a stall. “Take that thing off. Next time you have to go, we’ll bring you here. You can use the toilet. You’re a grown-up.” He stares sternly at Stiles. “You know that, right?” 

Stiles looks away. He feels funny without a diaper. He vaguely remembers how to use a toilet, so he grabs a wad of toilet paper and wipes himself off until the man is satisfied and helps him stand. 

Instead of taking him back to the room the man leads him farther down the hallway. “You’re bunking up for the night. Just stay in your room. We’ll bring you food and…fresh clothes, if we can spare them. We’re stuck here for a little while, until it’s all over, but the more information you want to give us about yourself the easier it’ll be to find your family and get you home.” He opens the door and Stiles sees a bunk bed, a table, and Jackson, curled up on the bottom cot with his thumb in his mouth. 

“Stay put and be quiet,” the man warns as he pushes Stiles inside. “We’ve had plenty of shouting and tears from you all already, and patience is wearing thin. Yell if you need the bathroom or medical, nothing else.” 

Stiles waits until the door slams shut, then crawls across the room to Jackson. The friends wrap their arms around each other tightly. “They’re coming, right?” Jackson whimpers. “Soon?” 

“They’re coming,” Stiles whispers back. 

“I… I think I did something bad. They kept asking me my name and I just wanted them to stop so I told them my old name. Mommy and Daddy said I never had to use that name again but i-it’s stuck in my head and I just said it without thinking. Will I get in trouble?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Jackie. It’s okay.” He’s so, so exhausted, after missing his nap and sitting in terror for so long. He knows neither of them can get up to the top bunk so he just stays where he is, holding onto Jackson until he drifts off into fitful sleep. 

X 

It turns out the humans aren’t far from Beacon Hills. They’d only driven about fifteen miles away, to some sort of bunker deep in the woods. Derek leads a team of twenty-five wolves, including Deucalion, Lydia, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac, until he knows they’re about a mile away. Deucalion thinks there might be traps closer to their hideaway, so he sends a single wolf to get closer. 

A tense twenty minutes later the woman returns to report a small building, probably fortified underground, with three humans standing guard and four trucks outside, suggesting more humans are there than attacked Beacon Hills. “We’ll monitor how many different guards there are,” Deucalion says. We’ll make a list of how many different people we see go in and out, and what kinds of weapons they have. If one wanders away from the rest and you can grab them easily, do it, get your claw in their neck, and see if they can tell you anything useful. Don’t kill them unless absolutely necessary, we don’t want to tip their leaders off that we’re here. We’re close enough to Beacon Hills that we can call in reinforcements as needed.” 

Derek stares into the trees as if Stiles might suddenly burst through. “I’ll take first shift,” he says. 

“Fine. But— and this goes for everyone with a human in there— I don’t care what you see or hear, you stay put. First person to step out-of-line goes back to Beacon Hills and stays there.” 

Derek scowls. They’ve all accepted Deucalion’s authority, but privately, he’s fully prepared to disobey if it’s in Stiles’ best interest. “Understood.” 

If Deucalion hears the lie, he doesn’t comment. Derek heads through the trees, telling himself that this will all seem like a bad dream when Stiles is back in his arms. 

X 

Allison is in time-out. This rarely happens, since Scott is such a push-over, but today she’d smacked Kira in the face, and hitting, as Scott told her sternly, “is a _very_ big no-no.” 

She couldn’t help it, though. Kira had been trying to put a fucking _tracking bracelet_ on her. Apparently people are freaking out thinking the humans are going to return, so they’re figuring out ways to make sure they can locate anyone who is taken. 

Eventually Scott had held her down while Kira put it on. Allison scowls down at it now. They’ve tried to pretty it up, putting her name on it in big bubble letters, but it feels like a shackle. 

Scott comes over to sit next to her. After five minutes sitting here alone she feels sort of funny, fragile or something, and she kind of wants to crawl into his lap. _Stupid._ “Have you learned your lesson, sweetie?” he says gently. 

She nods jerkily. 

“Can you tell me what you learned?” 

“Don’t hit Mommy,” she mutters. 

“That’s right. You don’t want to wear your mittens all day, do you? Then you can’t play with any of your toys and that’s no fun at all.” Scott picks her up and settles her on his lap. She nuzzles against his chest, telling herself it’s just for show. “Oh, that’s my good girl. Let’s go say sorry to Mommy, and then we’re having a playdate, remember? That’s going to be fun!” 

Right. Allison knows it’s not really a “playdate” like she normally has— the fear of humans returning has people grouping together, as a safety in numbers game. In the two days since the humans came they’ve spent hours with Peter and Donovan and some of the other babies from different packs. People are really scared. She wishes that provided her with some kind of advantage, but if anything it’s just made it so much harder to escape. 

She wonders what’s happening to Stiles right now. Scott and Kira have been hiding things from her, she’s sure. Whenever she asks they just assure her brightly that “Uncle Derek will have your cousin back real soon!” She knows a bunch of werewolves have gone after the humans, and she’s pretty sure Derek has called once or twice to update everyone. 

“Is Uncle Derek back yet?” she asks now, hoping to get a little more information out of Scott. 

Scott shakes his head. “We know where your cousin is, but the grown-ups are making sure it’s safe before they go in. But don’t you worry, Uncle Derek and the others will be home soon, and they’ll make sure those bad humans don’t ever come back.” 

He’s not going to _kill_ the humans to re-capture Stiles, is he? She sneaks a look at Scott. He seems like such a sweet, good-natured man, but she imagines him wolfing out and killing someone who tried to take Allison away from him. 

Surely not. Surely they’re not _that_ evil. 

“Daddy?” she asks in a small voice. “H-how will Uncle Derek make sure the humans don’t come back?” 

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart.” Scott walks her into the living room, where Kira is working on her laptop. “Kira, Allison has something she wants to say to Mommy.” 

Allison flushes bright red. Scott hands her down to Kira. “I’m sorry I hit you, Mommy,” she mumbles, unable to look Kira in the eye. For some reason it’s harder to call Kira “Mommy” then it is to call Scott “Daddy.” 

“It’s okay, Ally.” Kira kisses the top of her head. “We’re all a little on-edge these days. But your new bracelet is good, it means Mommy and Daddy always know where you are, so you can never get lost!” 

Allison glares down at the bracelet again. She’d been struggling so much when it was put on that she hadn’t really noticed how they’d closed it, but it’s too small to be slipped over her wrist and there’s no latch that she could just open and close. “It’s too tight,” she whines. 

“It has to be snug, princess, we need to make sure it can’t come off. I’m sorry, but we can’t make it any looser. See this little button? When we put it on we held that down for three seconds so the bracelet knew to lock. Now it can’t open again. That way no bad people can snatch you and try to take it off.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” Scott says soothingly, sitting down with them so he can pat her knee. “All the babies here are going to wear them now. But I bet _yours_ is the prettiest!” 

The doorbell rings and Scott gets up to answer it. Kira kisses her forehead again and straightens her skirt before standing up with Allison on her hip. 

Today’s playdate guests are Johnny and Heather from the neighboring pack. Allison notes sourly that they’re both wearing bracelets too, and apparently neither of them care at all. Johnny is also wearing a cape with a big “J” on it. “Johnny’s put himself in charge of protecting Heather,” Carol’s husband explains. 

Johnny nods seriously as Carol sets him down on the floor with Heather. “Nobody’s gonna hurt my sister,” he says, wrapping his arms around Heather and resting his cheek against hers. Heather beams. “Nobody,” she echoes, voice a little garbled. Heather acts younger than anyone else here, to the point that sometimes Allison honestly forgets she’s not a real toddler. 

Peter arrives with Donovan a few minutes later and the adults sit on the couch talking while the humans play on the floor. Allison mindlessly pushes a truck around, trying to hear what the werewolves are talking about, but they’re being too quiet. 

Donovan scoots close to Allison. “Stiles got ‘napped by hunters,” he says in a soft voice. 

_Hunters?_ “Humans,” she corrects. 

“Nuh-uh, hunters. Daddy told me. That’s bad humans who kill werewolves on _purpose_. Daddy said they want to kill all the werewolves here, that’s why they came and stole Stiles. They want to come back and kill _everyone_ , but werewolves are stronger than them, so our Mommies and Daddies can kill them no problem.” 

Surely Peter was lying. The humans who came here just wanted to save the captives. Allison imagines someone storming the house and killing Scott and it makes her feel suddenly panicked. She doesn’t want Scott and Kira dead, she just wants to be away from them. She drops the truck and crawls over to Heather, who offers her a wide smile and a battered stuffed bear. 

As the playdate goes on Allison finds herself missing Stiles. She’d kind of hated him at first, since he was so brainwashed, but now he’s her closest friend. And, as much as she hates to admit it, he kind of _needs_ to be with Derek. Stiles is so clingy that he’d needed a full two minutes of hugs and kisses before he let Derek leave the one time he came over here for a playdate. He must be going completely insane without his Daddy right now. 

The playdate ends after Allison uses her diaper and Scott carries her upstairs for a change. It’s like he can tell that she’s in a broody mood, because he sits with her in the rocking chair for a while, stroking her hair. “You know you’re safe here, right?” he says softly. “All you ever need to worry about is playing and having fun. We wouldn’t let anyone come and hurt you, not ever.” 

“I know,” she whispers. 

“Good girl.” He kisses her forehead. “Time for your bath.” 

Allison frowns. Kira almost always bathes her. “I want Mommy,” she whines, letting herself sound as babyish as possible because that’s the best way to get what she wants. 

“No, honey. Mommy’s going to go help Uncle Derek now. She’ll be back tomorrow.” Allison’s heart pounds as sudden fear spikes through her and Scott hushes her like he can tell. “It’s all right, Allison. Sh, sh sh sh. Mommy will be perfectly safe. Let’s go say bye-bye to her before she goes.” 

Kira is downstairs dressed in all black. She smiles and holds her arms out for Allison. “Oh, my little girl. I’ll miss you tonight! Can you be good for Daddy while I’m gone?” 

“Uh-huh,” Allison says softly. She swallows hard, still feeling an echo of fear. “D-don’t get hurt, Mommy.” 

“Don’t you worry about me, my love, I’ll be just fine. Give me kisses.” Allison obediently kisses her cheek and lets Kira squeeze her tightly and kiss her in return. Scott gives her a long, effusive goodbye as well and then she leaves, wiggling her fingers over her shoulder in a casual wave like she’s just headed to the grocery store. 

“Bath time,” Scott says cheerfully once she’s gone, heading for the bathroom. 

Allison pouts. Scott is almost never present during her baths, and he’s certainly never bathed her without Kira. She’s managed to rationalize the diaper changes but the thought of him touching her _everywhere_ as he washes her is too much. “I don’t want a bath!” 

“Sh, honey, you need your bath so you can be all nice and clean. Bath time is every two days, end of discussion.” Scott sighs when Allison struggles in his arms. “No, Ally. Let’s not have a second tantrum today.” He walks into the bathroom and starts to fill up the tub. “We’re just going to have a nice bath, and then story, and then beddy-byes.” 

Maybe it’s missing Stiles, or fear for Kira, or leftover anger about the bracelet, but Allison is suddenly _done_. Scott pus her down on the floor so he can undress her and she kicks at him. “Stop!” she screeches. “Don’t touch me!” 

Scott immediately hushes her and pulls her into his lap, expertly trapping her arms at her sides. “It’s okay, my baby girl. I know you're scared, but Daddy’s not going to hurt you or give you naughty touches in your special place. Daddy would never give his baby bad grown-up touches like that, not ever.” 

“I’m not a baby!” she screams so loudly it hurts her throat. She can’t move her arms at all and when she tries to pinwheel her feet Scott moves his arm to pin them down, too. “I’m practically as old as Kira! We’re the _same!”_ She needs him to admit that, that she’s as old as the woman he’s married to and sleeps with and treats as his equal. She needs him to say— just _once_ — that she’s not really a little girl. 

“No, no, you’re not. Sh, Ally, that’s enough. You’re not the same as Mommy, because Mommy is a werewolf, and you’re a human.” Scott’s voice is gentle but firm. “That’s why Daddy would never even think of giving you grown-up touches, or treating you like Mommy. I know it’s hard, my poor sweet girl. You were taught that you were supposed to grow up and act big. But humans aren’t supposed to live like that, humans are supposed to be cared for by werewolves and never let a single grown-up thought into their heads. When humans are allowed to get big, they turn bad, like those awful people who took your cousin. Mommy and Daddy brought you here so that wouldn’t happen to you. We love you so much, Ally-pie. We know you can be such a good girl for us and stay little and perfect forever and ever.” He kisses her and rocks her. “Sh. I know you miss Mommy and your cousin. I know how hard it is right now. But you’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay.” 

Allison closes her eyes, the fight leaving her body. For the first time she realizes that he really believes it. She always figured they were just messing with her, fully aware that she _is_ an adult and their treatment of her is completely insane. But Scott honestly, truly believes that this is what’s best for her. 

And that means they'll never get bored. They'll never wake up and realize what they're doing is crazy. 

They'll never let her go. 

Scott sits with her on the floor of the bathroom for a long time before gently undressing her and putting her in the bathtub. She whimpers a little as he washes her but he just keeps hushing her and moving the washcloth in soothing circles. He’s so quick between her legs she barely has time to tense. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Good girl, Allison. Everything’s all right, sweetheart.” 

After washing out her hair he lifts her from the bath and wraps her tenderly in a towel. He hums something as he carries her to the nursery, the sound rumbling deep in his chest right under her ear. She dimly notes that he dresses her in her Elsa pajamas and swaddles her tightly in a blanket, which he hasn’t done since she was first brought here. He reads her a new story tonight, something about a daddy getting his daughter a piece of the moon, and then he just rocks her for a while whispering about how much he loves her. 

Even once she’s put in her crib he stays there in the rocking chair watching over her. She falls into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when she wakes up in the morning he’s still there. “Good morning,” he yawns, getting a crick out of his neck as he walks over to the crib. “How are you feeling this morning, angel?” 

She blushes, feeling tiny and fragile and needing something to hug. “I want my bunny,” she whispers. 

“Mr. Hoppy?” Allison doesn’t think she ever agreed to that name but she reaches out for the stuffed animal and hugs it. It feels nice to hold something tight. “Let’s get clean, then go get some breakfast in your tummy and have some fun while we wait for Mommy. Sound good?” 

Allison nods and doesn’t say a single word in protest as Scott lovingly smooths back her hair and carries her to the changing table. 

X 

Stiles waits and waits and waits, but Daddy doesn’t come. Things are very bad. The humans only bring them grown-up food to eat, and it’s hard to chew and swallow, and it makes them sick. Jackson is too scared of the potty to use it himself and Stiles can’t remember how. He just wants to go home. He wants to go home with all his heart. 

They can’t really keep track of the hours because there aren’t any windows, but Stiles thinks they’ve maybe been there for two days before the door flies open and the woman comes in, grinning broadly, with another man right behind her. “Jackson Whittemore,” she says loudly. “I knew I recognized you.” 

Jackson freezes. “That’s not my name,” he whispers. 

“See, a story like yours really sticks in the mind. I saw you on the news— what, five, six years ago? Not hard to recognize you now, since it doesn’t seem like you’ve aged a day.” The woman pulls out a chair and sits down, grinning a mean grin. She’s got a folder that she tosses onto the table. “Jackson Whittemore,” she repeats. 

“That’s not my name!” 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” The woman drums her nails against the folder, then opens it. “I’ve got the articles right here if you need a refresher. _Jackson Whittemore, age seventeen, appeared in court today on charges that he negligently caused the death of his four-year-old brother— ”_

Jackson makes a horrible sound and slaps his hands over his ears. 

“That’s right,” the woman says softly. “You were supposed to be watching him, weren’t you? But you weren’t, and you left your hunting rifle out, even though your dad testified that he _told_ you and _told_ you to always make sure it was put away. Yeah, that’s all in here, along with the plea your mother made to the court to find you guilty. Your parents really went after you, didn’t they? The comments on the news article say it’s because he was their _real_ child, the miracle baby they thought they’d never have…they only took you in out of pity, and look how you repaid them.” 

“ _No, no, no!_ ” 

“You managed to escape prison on that one,” the woman continues mercilessly, turning the page. “The judge took pity on you. But your parents kicked you out, you went from golden boy to school drop-out and…look at this rap sheet. Petty theft, drunk and disorderly, underage drinking— all in _two years._ And it looks like the police were just about to finally slap you with a felony possession charge when you just up and disappeared.” The woman closes the file and stares at him, disgust all over her face. “I guess we had it wrong, huh? We thought you were victims. But you agreed to go with them, didn’t you? I bet you were more than happy to play along with their little fantasy so you could escape prison.” 

“No!” 

“Don’t lie to me. You wanted it, didn’t you? Right from the start. You went with them willingly.” 

“I didn’t! I _didn’t!_ They just took me! I didn’t want it!” Jackson’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s just said. He sobs again and curls into a ball on the floor, face turned away from the woman. Stiles feels sick. 

The woman looks directly at Stiles. “Don’t worry,” she says coldly. “We’ll figure out who you are, too. And once we’re out of here, we’ll make sure you all end up _exactly_ where you belong.” Her eyes flicker back over to Jackson. “No matter how much you fight it.” 

Stiles sits shaking until she’s left the room, then crawls over to Jackson and grabs him in a hug. Jackson’s face is a mess of tears and he looks at Stiles pleadingly. “Mommy said I don’t have to be Jackson Whittemore anymore,” he chokes out. “She said I’m _not_ bad. She _said_.” 

“You’re not bad, Jackie,” Stiles promises. He can feel that he’s crying too but he ignores his own tears to try and comfort his friend. 

“And I d-didn’t like being a baby at first, but that’s just because I was so little. I’m different now. I didn’t know any better. It wasn’t my fault. Mommy promised it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t mean it…” 

Jackson’s voice chokes off on a wail and Stiles isn’t sure what he’s talking about, those early days with the werewolves or his brother’s death. “You’re not bad,” he repeats. “ _They’re_ bad. Just like Daddy always said. He was right. Humans _are_ bad. We have to get away from them." 

Stiles thinks longingly of Daddy’s smile and big kisses and the way they sometimes take naps together on the couch, with Stiles all snuggled tight and safe in Daddy’s arms. “It's okay," he repeats, over and over. "We'll be home soon. Daddy will come." 

And if he doesn't...if Daddy doesn't find him soon... 

Then Stiles will just have to figure out a way out of here so _he_ can find _Daddy_. 

X 

Two miles away Derek paces around the little campsite the wolves have erected. He’s in a bad mood. He’d been pulling shift after shift on watch duty until Deucalion ordered him to take a break. As an alpha Derek has a hard time submitting to authority, especially when it’s an alpha he personally dislikes, and he’s still a little rankled about it. 

Kira had come from Beacon Hills, ostensibly to help out but really so she could convince Derek to go back to the town for at least a half day to rest. He’d refused, of course, and now she’s acting like a mother hen, urging him to drink and eat and take a nap. Motherhood suits her but he’s not in the mood for it at the moment. 

It’s been three days. Derek doubts the hunters are taking care of the little ones properly— Stiles is probably starving and in a filthy diaper right now, without a single toy or pacifier for comfort. Derek longs to rush in there and find him so he can carry him home for a bath and a big dinner. The only reason he would consider going back to Beacon Hills at this point would be to use the Nemeton to check in on Stiles’ mental state, but he’s too afraid of missing something important. 

He’s just thinking about going to ask Deucalion if he can take another shift when the alpha suddenly strides back into camp. “Attention,” he says, pitching his voice loudly enough that everyone can hear him. “I’ve made a decision.” 

Derek’s head shoots up. There are murmurs of interest around the camp and everyone with a baby inside takes a step closer— Lydia and Jordan, who came yesterday a little battered but ready to fight, and several others Derek had never known well but now feels bonded to for life. 

“It doesn’t look like they have more than fifty people, and that’s a generous estimate. They have guns, and we’ve seen that they’re competent with them, and they clearly have wolfsbane they’re preparing to deploy against us. Before they can use those weapons we need to strike fast and take out as many people as we can. The best time to hit them, given our superior abilities, is at night. Agreed?” 

There’s a murmur of assent around the camp. 

“About a half hour ago we overheard them saying that they’re thinking about calling in reinforcements, since we’ve been waiting to strike and they think we’re gearing up for a massive attack. I’d like to avoid that. So I think the best thing to do is send a group back to Beacon Hills to gather as many willing and able fighters are we can get, and then attack their base tomorrow night.” 

Derek exhales. Tomorrow night. He can last that long, and surely Stiles can too. “Agreed,” he says. 

The other wolves echo him. Many sound excited— he knows that those without babies are just in it for the thrill of the battle and a real opportunity to kill some hunters. Derek understands that. He’s been distracting himself from worrying about Stiles with thoughts of destroying the humans who stole his boy. Derek isn’t a cruel man but he looks forward to tearing them limb from limb. Or maybe he’ll just break their bones one by one, crack fingers and legs and backs and necks painfully and systematically. 

He doesn’t want to be covered in blood when he finds Stiles, it would traumatize him. That’s the last thing he needs right now. 

Then, when all their enemies are dead, he’ll take Stiles home, and never let the baby out of his sight again.


	4. Chapter 4

After the humans come in Jackson is too much of a mess to help Stiles plan an escape. He just curls up on the bed, crying, whispering things to himself that Stiles can’t hear. 

Stiles doesn’t want to think about what the humans might learn about _him_. He imagines them finding him old bad foster mother and bringing her here so she can take him, back to that horrible house and never ever let him leave… 

He has to find a way home before they can do that. 

He takes two trips to the bathroom that night. The humans are so tired of cleaning up messes that they don’t complain, just ferry him back and forth silently. The man seems sort of sorry about Jackson, bending down over him to ask if he’s okay, but it’s probably just a trick. Humans can’t be nice. 

The trips to the bathroom reveal a staircase at the end of the hall. On his last trip Stiles sees people going up it. “What’s that?” he mumbles to the man accompanying him. 

“Outside.” 

“Can I go? Just for a minute maybe?” 

“No. You have to stay down here for a little bit longer.” The man stops in front of the bathroom. “Hurry up. It’s almost lights-out, so this is your last trip of the night.” 

Stiles spends a long time in the bathroom, thinking. When he finally leave he tries to stumble like he did when he was first re-learning to walk, holding him stomach. “My tummy is upset again,” he whines. 

The man wrinkles his nose. The humans have been feeding them less, just crackers and fruit since they can usually keep that down, but a few days ago they had all been so sick that the humans were constantly cleaning up after them. “You sure?” 

Stiles whimpers in response, leaning against the wall. He’s so nervous that his stomach _does_ feel kind of upset. “I n-need to use the potty again.” 

The man sighs. He looks tired, Stiles notices. Not just not-enough-sleep tired, but bone-deep exhausted. Stiles remembers that look. He used to see it in the mirror before Daddy found him. “Okay. How about this. I’ll leave the door to your room unlocked so you can use the bathroom whenever you need to. How does that sound? Can you do it on your own?” 

_Yes!_ Stiles tries not to look excited as he nods. He ducks back inside the bathroom and sits down in the stall, hugging his legs close to him while he waits. He can faintly hear the man walking away, but he stays there, keeping himself from falling asleep by repeating his favorite stories in his head. He wishes Daddy were here to read them to him. 

After a long time he leaves the stall and peers out into the hallway. It’s dark and quiet and spooky, but he pushes his fear aside and slowly walks down the hall until he reaches his room. Jackson is still curled up on the bed. His eyes are shut tight but tears are sneaking out down his cheeks. 

“Jackson,” Stiles breathes, reaching out to shake his shoulder. “Wake up. We gotta go.” 

Jackson whines and shakes his head. 

“We can leave now and go back home. We can find my daddy and your mommy and daddy too, but we have to go right _now_.” 

Jackson sniffles and cracks an eye open. “We can find Mommy?” 

“Uh-huh. The humans are all asleep. We can sneak out, I saw the way we can go.” 

Another tear slides down Jackson’s cheek, and after a moment he slowly shakes his head. “I— I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can! I’ll help you!” 

“I can’t go. Mommy and Daddy won’t want me anymore.” Jackson’s voice catches. “Because I’m _bad_. I forgot how bad I am but I remember now. I’m a bad human and Mommy and Daddy d-don’t _like_ bad humans!” His voice is rising and Stiles winces, looking over his shoulder at the open door 

“You’re not bad,” he tries, but he can already tell it’s not going to work. Jackson is crying in earnest again, curling up even tighter. 

Stiles really, _really_ doesn’t want to go alone, but he doesn’t have a choice. “I’ll make sure someone comes back for you,” he promises before getting to his feet and heading for the door. 

His legs are still a little shaky but they feel stronger and stronger as he walks. By the time he reaches the staircase they’ve almost stopped trembling. He walks up, feeling with his hands in the darkness until he reaches a door. 

If it’s locked, everything is over. 

With his heart in his throat he finds the knob and pushes against the door with his shoulder. It turns surprisingly easily and he blinks up at a sky full of stars. It’s a little chilly out and goosebumps break out over his skin. Usually he’s never outside without Daddy, and for a second he remembers being lost in the woods and afraid. It makes his breath catch but he tries to fight it off. 

Daddy’s out there somewhere, waiting for him. Stiles has to get to him _now_. 

X 

_I am never going to leave here. I am never, ever going to leave._

The words keep repeating in Allison’s head, bouncing around every minute until it’s like they lose all meaning. Sometimes they make her sad, so she cries, but other times they make her feel almost peaceful. Like she’s underwater and has finally stopped fighting against the waves. 

After her tantrum and long night’s sleep Scott keeps her held tightly, rocking her and kissing her and barely putting her down for a second. “You are the sweetest, most wonderful little girl in the world,” he whispers to her as he makes a bottle. “You make Mommy and Daddy so happy.” 

She drinks the bottle. She naps on his shoulder. At one point she realizes she’s sucking her thumb without any prompting. 

Maybe it’s time to revise her thinking. She’s been thinking only about how to escape; how to get out. Instead, maybe she should be thinking out how to make this situation bearable. Give up thoughts of escape and just find a way to be happy. 

They forcibly regress her when she acts big, so maybe if she acts little…maybe they’ll eventually let her act a little bigger. 

Can she do it? Can she really just…play along like it’s all okay? She blinks up at Scott, who smiles down at her and kisses her forehead. “Who’s a sleepy girl?” he croons. 

She blushes and hides her face in his shirt, staying there where’s it’s warm and cozy until he’s prepared another bottle. He’s just finished burping her when the door opens. “Hello,” Kira calls. “Where’s my little kitten?” 

“We’re in here, Mommy,” Scott calls. “Mommy’s home,” he coos to Allison. “Let’s say hello to her.” 

Kira bends down and kisses Allison’s forehead and cheeks. “Oh, I missed you, my Ally-baby.” She grins at Scott. “You, too.” 

Scott kisses her and makes room for her on the couch. “How are things going there?” 

“They’re going in today. I figured I’d come back and swap out with you, Derek would want you there over me.” 

Scott grimaces. “Yeah. I should help.” He leans back, smoothing Allison’s hair behind her ears. “But she’s so peaceful today, I want to just stay here with her.” 

Allison tries to muster up indignation at being talked past like she isn’t here, but it feels like too much effort. 

“You two had a good night?” 

“Yes, we did. Didn’t we, my sweet girl? A little fussy at bathtime but Daddy got her swaddled nice and tight for beddy-byes and she’s been good as gold ever since.” 

Kira beams. “Good girl, Ally! Can you be just as good for Mommy today? I bet you can be! And then once Stiles is home we can have a nice fun playdate for you.” Her voice always falls into a certain cadence when she talks to Allison— sing-song and soothing. Usually it makes Allison feel embarrassed but today she just stares up at Kira, mesmerized by the way her black hair shines in the light. “How about Mommy holds you for a little?” 

“Don’t make me put her down,” Scott groans, arms tightening around Allison protectively. 

“If you don’t want to go, I’ll head back. I just figured, since you’re closest to Derek after Peter…” 

“No, I’ll go. I just need to grab a shower and some food.” Scott lifts Allison, hugging her tightly to his chest. “All right, sweetheart, Daddy loves you.” He passes her off to Kira and stands, stopping only to gently slide Allison’s sock back up her foot and wiggle her toes playfully before leaving the room. 

Kira yawns, adjusting Allison so her head is right against Kira’s breast as Kira reclines. “Mommy’s going to take a nap with you,” she murmurs. “Won’t that be fun? I bet you can fall asleep before me.” 

Allison tries not to pout at the idea of going to bed without a bedtime story. She can’t help it, it’s just become routine— the pictures are nice to look at, and Scott and Kira do funny voices. It makes her forget how scary and humiliating everything is. She sticks her thumb back into her mouth and snuggles against Kira’s chest, trying to just think of the comfort, not the fact that she’s using Kira’ breasts as a pillow. 

She drifts close to sleep, not tired enough yet to really fall asleep. It feels pleasantly floaty. Kira is breathing deeply in and out, arms still anchored around Allison. 

At some point Scott re-enters the room and Allison feels Kira stir. “You think we should start breastfeeding?” she yawns. “Look at her, she’s practically latching on through my shirt.” 

_Am not_ , Allison thinks defensively. It’s just where her head is. Still, she’s too sleepy to try and move. 

“I don’t know, I’d hate to make you go through all the shots to start lactating. Besides, I really do think she’s starting to regress. Remember those training sessions where they talked about the last big tantrum they throw before true regression? I really think we had that last night.” 

“Hm.” Allison can feel Kira stroking her cheek with her thumb. “I just want her to feel close to us.” 

“She does.” Scott’s voice drops and the couch squeaks. “I think she’s finally realizing nobody from her old home is coming, and we’re not letting her out of our sight long enough for her to go anywhere.” His lips land softly on her forehead and she blinks herself fully awake, peering up at his smiling face. “Hi there, sweetheart. Did you have a nice nap with Mommy?” 

She nods without even thinking. What had they been saying about breast-feeding? She must have just been dreaming it. “Hungry,” she mumbles. 

“Mama will make you a bottle in a little while. Say bye-bye to Daddy, he’s going to get rid of the bad guys.” 

Allison’s eyes fly all the way open. This is it? They’re going to attack the humans? Much to her surprise her first reaction isn’t hope that they’ll fail and she’ll be rescued, or horror at the thought of humans being killed, but fear for Scott. She doesn’t want him to get hurt. She can’t imagine what it would be like if he was dead, that comforting, warm presence gone forever. Kira wouldn’t just let her go, she knows, so she would be trapped here with a grieving Kira _forever_. And, if and when she does escape, she Kira would be alone. Even that thought feels painful. 

She has to stop him. She lets out a sob and stretches out her arms to him plaintively. “No, Daddy! Don’t go!” 

“It’s okay, Ally! You’ll have fun here with Mommy, some special time for you two just like we had yesterday—” 

“I don’t want you to get hurt!” It’s easy to backslide into a tantrum, to just open her mouth and let the childish wails escape. “Stay! Don’t go away, Daddy!” 

Somewhere in the back of her mind a memory tickles. She’s said this before, hasn’t she? Yes— years ago, when her _real_ father was going out somewhere. He’d left a lot when she was little, and sometimes he came back bleeding… 

It’s been a long time since she’s thought about that. Where had he been going? What had he been _doing?_ He’d stopped, eventually, right around the time her aunt Kate disappeared. 

For months now Scott and Kira have been talking about how bad her family was— _evil_ , was the word they used sometimes. She thought it was just a manipulation tactic. But all that blood…and her father had carried a gun, hasn’t he?” 

Scott snaps her out of the thoughts by lifting her out of Kira’s arms and putting her on his hip. “Are you going to miss Daddy?” he asks gently. 

Tears sting her eyes. She nods, sniffling a little. Usually when she thinks of her father it makes her hate Scott and Kira and pull away from them, but the memories are making her feel so mixed-up that she just wants cuddles. 

“Well, Daddy’s going to miss you too. It’s okay to be sad when Daddy leaves, that’s perfectly normal. But Daddy is going to be just fine, and I’ll be back soon, and guess who will be with me? Stiles and Uncle Derek! Then everything will be back to normal.” He cups the back of her head so he can cuddle her close. “Don’t be scared, my little Ally-cat. Little kitten.” He kisses the top of her head, voice filled with tenderness. “Go to Mama, now. I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Allison doesn’t fight as she’s handed back to Kira. Scott blows her a kiss, which makes her smile despite herself, then kisses Kira and pulls them both in for one last hug. “My beautiful family,” he says with satisfaction. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Allison clings to Kira as he leaves. There are still tears trickling down her cheeks and Kira hushes her, tilting up her chin so she can look her in the face. “No need to be worried,” she says lightly. “Look at me. Am I worried?” 

Allison shakes her head slowly. 

“That’s because I know your Daddy. He’ll always come back to us. He’ll be with us forever and ever and ever.” 

That should send Allison into a depression spiral— the thought of being here with Scott and Kira _forever and ever and ever_. But instead she lets herself relax. She rests her head against Kira’s shoulder, and— though she isn’t even really sure why— she smiles. 

X 

Derek is restless. He should be sleeping. He should be resting up for tomorrow. But there’s something clawing under his skin that keeps him from drifting off. 

It’s probably just the knowledge that Stiles is so nearby, but impossible to get at right now. Derek remembers that feeling. He’d been separated from his family by such a small margin too— close, and yet so very far. 

What if Stiles is hurt? What if he’s started acting big again? Can he even be regressed a second time, or will the sweet little prince Derek adores so much just be gone forever? The thoughts torment him, tugging him away from sleep each time he starts to drift off. This is unbearable. 

He gets to his feet, trying not to disturb the other werewolves sleeping. Scott had arrived a few hours ago, looking pleased with himself— apparently this situation is helping Allison regress. Small miracles. Peter is here too, having left Donovan with Erica and Boyd. Not even his little boy could keep him from getting his claws into some humans. 

Derek heads away from their little campsite towards the building. He considers shifting, running off his excess energy, but something stops him. A tiny sound, so quiet he wonders if he imagined it. 

He takes a few steps forward, squinting through the trees. 

“Derek.” 

It’s a harsh whisper, making him jump. He turns to see Deucalion, frowning disapprovingly. “Why aren’t you asleep?” 

Derek curses Deucalion’s enhanced senses. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“It’s a weakness, you know. This love you have for him.” 

“It’s not.” Derek turns away pointedly, wishing Deucalion could see him do it. 

“Of course it is. He’s human. You shouldn’t—” 

“Duke! _Duke!_ ” 

The werewolf who had been standing sentry tonight waves at them from the trees frantically. “One of our humans is coming up! He’s on his own!” 

Derek forgets Deucalion and practically leaps forward. He can see someone at the basement entrance, blinking up at the stars as though entranced. For a moment he wonders if he’s imagining it, wishing it so hard it’s becoming real, but no: that’s Stiles standing there, trembling a little from the cold. 

Joy floods him. His brave, smart little boy! He got away all by himself and now Derek can go and get him, carry him away from all of this and make sure he’s somewhere safe before the battle begins. 

He opens his mouth to call out to the baby and hears a shout from the open basement door: “Hey! Get back here!” 

Stiles jumps and turns, running away from the door as fast as he can. He stumbles a little but keeps going, disappearing into the trees. 

The trees which are currently the _opposite direction_ from Derek. 

Derek snarls and prepares to spring, but Deucalion grabs him by the arm. “No,” he says between gritted teeth. “They already know he’s on the run. They won’t stop until they catch him. We have to stay hidden and hope he doesn’t run this way and expose us all.” 

He must be joking. Derek rips his arm away and starts to run, catching Stiles’ scent and moving as fast as he can to catch up before the humans get to him. 

X 

No, no, _no!_ Stiles can’t believe it. He’d thought everyone was asleep, but just after he’d opened the door someone had yelled after him. 

Now they’re chasing him, and they’re going to catch him and take him back and make him stay underground again… 

He sobs and trips over something, sprawling out over the forest floor with an _ooph_. Seconds later someone grabs his ankle. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Stiles turns and stares into the angry face of the man who had taken him to the bathroom. He’s glowering at Stiles, one hand at the gun on his hip, and Stiles just loses it. 

He tips his head to the sky and sobs. “ _Daddy!_ ” 

X 

Derek is only yards away when Stiles falls. He would have reached him first, would have scooped him right up and darted away before the hunter knew what was happening, if Deucalion hadn’t been chasing him and roughly grabbed his arm again. 

“Stop, Hale! That’s an order!” 

Derek snarls just as Stiles’ wail rings out. “ _Daddy!_ ” 

He turns and sees his poor boy on the ground. The hunter is leaning over him, face in shadow. Derek feels his lips bare. 

“Don’t move,” Deucalion hisses. “Not a step.” 

“It’s one human. _One_. I can kill him right now.” 

“You do that and they’ll know we’re here. For all we know they engineered his little escape just to draw us out. We’ll lose the element of surprise. The battle starts now, and all our people are asleep or still on their way here. You can wait, Derek. You’ll have him back tomorrow.” 

Derek only growls. He can’t just let the human take his little boy away. He’s so close. 

“Don’t let your love for a human kill everyone else you care about, Derek,” Deucalion says quietly. “Not _again._ ” 

The hit is perfectly calculated, and it works. Derek feels the fight leave his body. He turns to watch the hunter drag Stiles up. The sight of his poor baby all slumped over, his defeated sobs quiet in the moonlight, is painful to see, and he lets out an involuntary soft groan. 

“You can have that hunter tomorrow,” Deucalion promises. “Kill him as painfully as you want.” 

Derek watches as Stiles is led away. He hadn’t been able to see the hunter’s face, but there’s something about him— something almost familiar. He’ll be able to find him tomorrow and make him pay. He’ll _enjoy_ it. 

He stands there silently, not saying another word to Deucalion until Stiles is out of sight. 

X 

“What the hell were you thinking?” the man asks Stiles almost kindly as he leads him back to the bunker. “Where did you think you were going to go? There’s nothing but woods here for miles.” 

Stiles sniffles. He’d thought that Daddy must be out here, waiting for him. He’d thought that Daddy would come and get him right away. 

Clearly he’d been wrong. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asks the man miserably. “Why are you hurting us?” 

The man stares straight ahead, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “I’m not. I’m helping you.” 

“Y-you’re trying to hurt werewolves. Werewolves are _good_. They’re not bad, like humans are, like _you_ are!” Stiles can feel his temper rising. Usually when he starts to act like this Daddy just raises an eyebrow at him, and if Stiles ignores that and goes into a full-blown tantrum Daddy makes him go to the naughty corner. 

“Trust me,” the man snaps. “Werewolves are not _good_. You want me to tell you what werewolves have done to my family?” 

“Because you hurt _them_ first!” 

“No, kid! I’d stopped hunting werewolves. I stopped for a long, long time. But they came back for me— for my _family_. So now I’ll kill every last one I can, and they’ll have to kill me to get me to stop.” The man shuts his mouth, cheeks a little red as if he’s regretting saying so much. His grip on Stiles’ arm tightens and he opens the basement door and shoves Stiles inside. 

Instead of taking him back to the room with Jackson he leads him to another room and sits him down at a table. “Look,” he says, voice gentler now. “I don’t want to yell at you, kid. I know what you’ve been through. Deep down, you know that what I’m saying is true. Werewolves aren’t the good guys here.” 

Stiles curls his toes inside his socks. “What did you mean?” he mumbles. “About the werewolves coming back for your family?” 

The man blinks, looking like he’s not sure if he should respond, but then he sighs. “Like I said, I used to hunt werewolves. But some of the things we did…it didn’t sit right with me. So I quit. I just wanted to keep my family safe. For years I was out of the game, and then about a year ago…the person I love most in the world went missing. I know she’s dead. And I know who to blame.” 

Stiles looks away. He’s lying. Or he’s just _wrong_. Werewolves would never hurt someone who hadn’t hurt them first. “Whatever,” he mutters. 

Much to his surprise, the man kind of snorts. “Well, at least you’re not baby-talking at me anymore. Feeling a little older now?” 

That makes Stiles’ heart skip a beat. For a second, it’s like he _forgot_ how little he is. “Nuh-uh,” he snaps. “I just don’t _like_ you.” 

“Yeah, I know. But you should like me, kid. Even though you don’t believe me… I just want to help you.” The man sticks his hands out. “What do you say? Want to try being my friend?” 

Stiles shakes his head stubbornly. 

“Well, we can at least take a first step towards friendship. You can tell me your real full name.” The man waits. “What if I go first? My name is Chris. Chris Argent. What’s yours?’ 

“Stiles,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now take me back to Jackie.” 

The man sighs and stands up. “Okay. If that’s how you want it.” 

He doesn’t say another word as he takes Stiles back down the hall. Stiles curls up on the bottom bunk next to Jackson and lets his tears come, blurring everything until he can finally fall asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this!  
> I'd like to offer a big thank-you to keldjinfae, who is currently doing the Lord's work by sending me the Best Of Stucky fanfic. Seriously, it has made my week.  
> Also doing the Lord's work: CountryKitchen! More Baby Stiles fanart out at gentlywithachainsawao3.tumblr.com! (I'll post it here when I have better internet!)

Stiles has a hard time staying asleep after the failed escape attempt. He keeps having nightmares where he’s running and running and running and then gets tackled and pinned to the ground, but when he turns around he sees that it’s _Daddy_ leaning over him with sharp fangs all bared. 

Stiles _hates_ nightmares, and he wants to scream for Daddy before he remembers that Daddy’s not here. Daddy always makes the nightmares go away; he cuddles Stiles on the rocking chair and sings songs to him and sometimes lets him sleep in Daddy’s room to make sure the bad dreams don’t come back. 

Each time he wakes up he can’t get back to sleep for a while. He keeps thinking of what Chris had said, that werewolves killed someone he loved for no reason. He was probably lying. Humans lie, Daddy said so. Humans lie because they’re bad. 

But not _all_ humans are bad. Stiles’ parents hadn’t been bad. And he’d had a foster family that wasn’t bad. So why does Chris have to be bad? 

His head feels all mixed-up and confused. Daddy said humans were bad because they killed his family. So if werewolves killed Chris’ family, aren’t _werewolves_ bad? 

He needs Daddy to tell him. 

When he finally wakes up for good his head feels all stuffy and tired. There’s a knock on the door and Chris comes in with breakfast. Jackson is still sound asleep but Stiles gets out of the cot and approaches him warily. 

Chris puts the food down on the table and sits. “So we’re going to keep what happened last night as our secret,” he says quietly. “No point in getting you in trouble with the others. 

Stiles doesn’t answer. He reaches for the little bottle of milk, that tastes the most like his bottles. Chris reaches out and unscrews the top for him, which is nice— Stiles has had trouble with it over the past few days. 

“You feeling any more talkative this morning?” Chris is unwrapping a protein bar for himself like he’s going to sit here and have breakfast with Stiles. Stiles just shrugs. 

Chris glances over at Jackson. “How’s he doing?” 

“Bad.” Stiles takes a tiny bite of the breakfast bar Chris unwrapped for him. “You were mean to him.” 

“Yeah. That was…that was too bad. We didn’t realize you guys would be like this when we came in. We figured you’d be…a little bit more helpful.” 

Stiles makes a noncommittal noise. He really doesn’t want to talk about this. “We just wanted to stay with our families,” he says quietly. 

“Why? What was so great about it? Come on, tell me about your life there. I want to know what it’s like.” 

It’s probably a trap. Stiles just shakes his head. 

“You’ve got a Daddy, right? Is that it? You love him?” Chris puts his hands up when Stiles glares at him. “I’m just curious. Maybe if I understood why you wanted to go back…I could help you.” 

“You’re lying to me.” 

“No, I’m not. Look, if you’re in a situation like your friend here, who has nothing in our world to go back to, I figure you might be better off staying with the werewolves, right? So tell me the truth. Are you really happy?” 

“Uh-huh.” Sties doesn’t feel hungry any more so he pushes the breakfast bar away. “I have Daddy. Daddy loves me. And I have the pack, they love me too, and my friends who are babies like me. There’s Jackson, and Danny, and my cousin Donovan, and my cousin Allison…” 

Chris shifts in his seat. “Are they all here now?” 

“Nuh-uh. Donovan and Ally are still at home.” Stiles stops talking quickly, afraid of what he’s given away. “But they’re really happy too! They want to stay there! Donovan lives with my uncle Peter and Ally lives with my Uncle Scott and Aunt Kira, she’s still new and gets confused sometimes but Daddy says soon she’ll be perfect.” 

“New?” Chris repeats. 

“Uh-huh, like a year. Daddy said it’s hard for her because…because she was picked special, I think, so she wasn’t really a baby just waiting for her Mommy and Daddy to find her like the rest of us. They picked her for another reason. But I don’t remember why. So I have all my friends, and all my toys—” 

“Your friend Allison,” Chris interrupts. He’s got a funny look on his face. “Can you tell me what she looks like?” 

Stiles shrugs. “She’s pretty. She has brown hair.” 

“What else? Is she tall, or short?” 

Stiles sighs, aggrieved. “I guess she’s tall.” He remembers something Daddy said once. “I heard Daddy say to Uncle Scott, _she looks like Kate._ But I don’t know who Kate is.” 

Chris makes a choked sound. “What’s your Daddy’s name?” 

Stiles scoffs, well aware that this is a trick. “I’m not telling you that.” 

“Tell me.” Chris’ voice is different. It’s harder and there’s a desperate look in his eyes. “Tell me and I swear I’ll get you back to him. I promise.” 

Stiles hesitates. 

“You said Peter, didn’t you? You said Uncle Peter a minute ago, I heard you. Is your daddy’s name Derek? Is it Derek Hale?” 

After Daddy became Daddy, Stiles stopped thinking of him as _Derek_. Sure, he hears his pack call him that, but he’s just _Daddy_ to Stiles. “How did you know that?” 

Chris stands up so fast that his chair skitters back. Jackson snuffles in his sleep and turns over. “Where are you going?” Stiles cries as Chris practically runs towards the door. “You promised!” 

Chris hesitates, then looks back at Stiles. “Trust me,” he says, eyes still kind of faraway with that desperate look. “You’ll be seeing him by the end of the day.” 

Then he’s gone. 

X 

Kira is very, very gentle with Allison after Scott leaves. She brushes out Allison’s hair and puts on an episode of Dora the Explorer and colors with Allison for a long time. Allison is worried about Scott but Kira seems totally fine. “It’s fun to have a girl’s night, isn’t it?” she coos. 

Allison nods bashfully and snuggles in close. It really does feel good to rest her head on Kira’s chest. She can’t remember ever cuddling with her mom like this, not even when she was really little. 

When her mom died she’d been sad, but there hadn’t been a hole. There hadn’t been _grief_ , really. How pathetic is that, to not even be close enough to her mother to grieve her death? 

She’s always been closer with her father. She still misses him, but every day it’s a little easier. It’s like her old life is a dandelion, and someone is slowly blowing the seeds into the wind. 

“It’s time for bed now, Ally-baby,” Kira murmurs, lifting her just as easily as Scott and carrying her upstairs for her bedtime story. As Allison is changed into her pajamas she stares up at Kira’s face, so familiar now. 

At least Kira cares about her. If Allison disappeared, Kira and Scott would do anything to find her. She believes that. That’s more than her dad has done. 

“Night-night, kitten,” Kira whispers, leaning over the crib to kiss Allison goodnight. 

“Goodnight, Mommy,” Allison whispers back, closing her eyes tightly as Kira tiptoes away. 

X 

In the morning Derek is exhausted. He hadn’t been able to sleep a wink after the near-rescue of Stiles. What must they be doing to the babies, to make Stiles feel like he had to run away? 

Scott had thoughtfully brought down Sheriff when he came and Derek holds the stuffed toy, feeling as though something is stabbing him in the chest with every breath he takes. 

Everyone is tense this morning. Word of what happened last night has gotten around and everyone with a captured human is seriously concerned about what might be happening to the babies. 

Deucalion says they should attack around noon, since the humans will be most vigilant in early morning, but it’s hard to wait. Derek takes a shift on lookout, hoping against hope that Stiles will run out again. 

“Your anxiety is annoying me,” Deucalion mutters. He’s standing lookout too, probably just to make sure nobody makes a break for the compound. 

“Get over it,” Derek says curtly. He can see the humans who stand guard during the day. At first they had been vigilant, but lately they’ve been much more relaxed. They must be starting to think the werewolves aren’t coming. 

“I don’t know, Derek. Maybe the best thing that could happen to you is losing him. You could be a great—“ 

He’s interrupted by an explosion coming from the compound. It’s so loud that for a moment Derek is disoriented. As he stares at the compound he sees people running out, shouting: 

_“Is it them? Are they here?”_

 _“How did they get inside?”_

 _

“There’s no one else here!” 

“The fucking wolfsbane! They blew up the wolfsbane!"

_

“What’s going on?” Derek snaps at Deucalion. “Did we do this?” 

“No.” Deucalion’s face is inscrutable. “How many are running out?” 

“Twenty. Maybe more.” The explosion had come from the underground bunker. The babies are down there. 

“Well, if it came from inside, it couldn’t have been us. But they’re in chaos right now. It’s time to go in.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes. Get the others.” Deucalion smiles humorlessly. “You’ll have your human back, Derek.” He nods towards the smoking hole in the ground. “If _that_ didn’t kill him already.” 

X 

Chris leaves the door open after he goes out, and Stiles considers running again, but what’s the point? Daddy clearly isn’t out there. Maybe he decided not to come after Stiles. Maybe… 

Jackson is a little groggy and he refuses to eat any of the breakfast bars Chris left behind. “They’re going to send me back,” he says woodenly. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to go to jail. I d-don’t want to be bad again…” 

“I know,” Stiles whispers. 

“Were you bad? Before your Daddy?” 

“N-no. I don’t think so.” Stiles curls himself into a tight little ball. “But I knew a lot of bad people. I don’t want them to find me.” 

He imagines his bad foster mom taking him again. She wouldn’t cuddle him like Daddy. She wouldn’t read him stories and play with his mermaids and buy him toys— 

Before he can make himself feel even worse the ground suddenly shakes under him and there’s a _boom_. It’s so loud that after it’s over there’s a ringing in his ears. Dust floats down from the ceiling, making him cough. 

“What’s happening?” Jackson cries. 

“I don’t know!” 

Stiles can hear shouting from out in the hall, and running feet. Are the werewolves here to save them? 

“Stay here,” he says to Jackson as he walks to the door, but Jackson scampers after him, half-crawling. Practically all the humans are running up the stairs. ““Get the hostages all into one place!” a woman shouts. “Get them as far away from the front entrance as possible! Take the towards the back stairway!” 

“They’re here,” Stiles breathes. “Jackson, we have to go!” 

“Why? They’re coming for us!” 

“Didn’t you hear her? They’re going to move us so the werewolves can’t find us, or someplace where they have a trap set for the werewolves! We have to get out and wait for the fighting to stop!” Stiles’ head feels funny. All his thoughts are sort of sharper and _older_. 

“I can’t,” Jackson whispers. “I-I can’t move fast. I would just slow you down.” 

He’s right. Stiles stares at him for a moment, then looks back outside. It’s chaos right now, but in a few minutes the humans will be organized enough to start moving the babies. Stiles darts out and, remembering what the woman had said about a back stairway, moves away from the stairway he took last night. 

From far away he can hear booming sounds and some screams. The werewolves must be fighting. 

He gets confused a few times, since there are a bunch of different hallways leading to dead ends. Even though he’s moving away from the main entrance it sounds like the screams are getting closer. He hits another dead end, turns around, and finds himself face-to-face with the female hunter who came in to taunt Jackson. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snaps. She reaches out to grab him and Stiles hits at her with everything he had. Her eyes widen a little— she’s not used to the hostages displaying actual strength. 

“I’m leaving,” he says. “I’m going home.” 

Her eyes narrow. “You don’t _have_ a home, you dumb fuck! You. Were. _Kidnapped!_ The monster who took you doesn’t love you, he just loves how much control he has over you. And someday, when he’s bored with you, he’ll rip you to shreds for the fun of it. That’s what they do.” 

Stiles shakes his head, feeling oddly panicked. “That’s not true! He loves me! He _does!_ ” 

“You’re going to waste your whole life as his little toy, you know. And he’ll just be laughing at how stupid you are. How incredibly—” 

There’s a blur suddenly zooming down the hall, and the woman isn’t standing there anymore. Stiles blinks and sees her on the ground, eyes staring, neck twisted, and stomach torn open. There’s a man— a werewolf— standing over her. He turns his head towards Stiles. His eyes stare past him, but Stiles can tell he knows Stiles is there. 

“Two for the price of one,” the werewolf says. “That’s a treat.” 

Stiles is so scared he can’t move. He knows this man. This is Deucalion. Daddy said they can’t ever go on his territory because he isn’t their friend. “No,” he squeaks. “I’m not one of them. I’m one of you. I’m Stiles. I—” 

“You’re a human,” the werewolf interrupts. He deliberately steps onto the woman’s neck as he walks towards Stiles, crunching bone. “That’s all I need to know.” 

Stiles closes his eyes and waits. After a few moments of silence he cracks an eye open. Deucalion is gone. The only reason Stiles knows he was even there is the body of the woman still sprawled on the ground. Blood is sprayed on the floor and walls. 

_Someday he’ll rip you to shreds for the fun of it._

Deucalion had been about to hurt Stiles. Even though werewolves are only supposed to hurt humans who hurt them first. 

Stiles whines and presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. His head hurts. The woman’s words bounce around like ping-pong balls: 

_Waste your whole life._

 _His little toy._

 _

Just loves how much control he has over you…

_

Stiles doesn’t know what to think, but suddenly he just has to get away. He runs from the woman and the blood, heading back down the hall and into another hallway. The fighting has clearly moved downstairs. He slips on something a few times but doesn’t look down, too afraid of what he’ll see. 

Someone grabs his arm. “Stiles! Sweetie, it’s okay!” 

He looks up to see Lydia, Jackson’s Mommy. There’s blood on her hands; now it’s on him. “Stiles, where’s Jackie?” 

She’s killed someone, too. All the werewolves are killing people. He pulls his arm away and runs as fast as he can, up the stairs and into the woods before anyone else can stop him. 

X 

It’s surprisingly easy to overpower the humans. Derek is expecting more wolfsbane attacks but nothing comes. He kills almost mindlessly, focusing solely on finding Stiles. 

Before long there’s no one left to kill. He can hear werewolves shouting for their babies and he joins them, searching for Stiles in every open room. 

“Derek!” Lydia, searching with Parish, waves to him frantically. “Stiles ran outside!” 

“What? Why?” Had he been looking for Derek? Damn it, why hadn’t he just stayed put? 

“I tried to stop him, but— it was like he didn’t even know me.” 

Derek’s heart sinks. Had Stiles seen the killings? He’s so sensitive, of course that would make him panic. This is Derek’s worst nightmare, that something would happen to make Stiles be afraid of him. 

“Scott,” he barks, seeing the beta in the throng of werewolves. “Get Sheriff. Stiles ran into the woods. I have to track him.” 

He steps on something and looks down in mild disgust to see a hunter’s body. He kicks it away. 

They won’t win. They won’t take Stiles from him this way. 

X 

Jackson is curled up in a ball on the cot. He can hear shouting from outside, but he doesn’t look. His heart hurts. If the werewolves are really here, the other babies will get to go home. Not him. Mommy and Daddy won’t want a bad human like Jackson. 

He’d forgotten all about how bad he used to be, but that woman had said it was still _him_. He can never get away from it. He just wants to forget again but he _can’t_ , he _can’t_ , he _can’t!_

“Jackson!” 

He looks up, shocked. “Mommy?” He bursts into tears and holds out his arms as she rushes in. “Mommy!” 

“Oh, my baby! Jordan, he’s here! I found him!” 

Within seconds Jackson is scooped up in the biggest hug ever from his Mommy _and_ his Daddy. “We were so worried,” Daddy says. “My poor brave little man. You’re all right now. We’re going home.” 

Jackson whimpers. Are they sure? Don’t they know about him? “E-even though I’m bad?” 

“ _Bad?_ Who told you that, angel?” Mommy kisses his forehead. “You’re the most perfect boy in the world, yes you are. We love you more than anything. Nothing you could ever, ever do would stop that.” 

Jackson sniffles. “P-promise?” 

“Cross my heart. You’re such a good boy. We’re so lucky to have you.” 

The family hug is warm and Jackson can feel Mommy and Daddy’s love and relief as they hold him tight. He sighs and closes his eyes, letting the bad thoughts trickle away until they’re just the faintest memory of someone else’s life. 

X 

Stiles is too afraid to run very far, so when he’s only about three minutes away from the fighting he finds a thick bramble of bushes where he can hide. He curls on the dirt, shaking, and tries to think. 

It’s silly to hide. Daddy will be able to find him. What is Stiles going to do when he does? 

It’s just not fair that this had to happen. He’d been so _happy_. They’d been going to the beach, and Daddy loved him, and he loved Daddy… 

But what if Daddy’s been lying to him? What if werewolves don’t only hurt humans who hurt them first? What if they hurt humans just _because?_ Then maybe Daddy doesn’t really love him— maybe he’s only keeping Stiles to make fun of him, or control him, or hurt him someday like the woman was saying. 

He hates these thoughts! He never, ever feels bad or doubtful like this. He just wants to be happy again. 

He hears footsteps crunching towards him. “Stiles?” 

It’s Daddy’s voice. 

_Derek. His name is Derek._

“Stiles, sweetheart, can you hear me?” 

Stiles holds his breath as the footsteps hesitate right next to him. Derek bends and meets Stiles’ eyes. He smiles. “There you are.” 

He’s strong enough to reach right in and pulls Stiles out, Stiles knows that. But instead he sits down, making himself comfortable. “Everything’s all right now, baby. The bad people won’t hurt you anymore. I’m right here. I love you so, so much. Whenever you’re ready to come out, we’ll go home.” 

What if he’s _never_ ready to come out? He searches Derek’s face, trying to find some sign that he’s lying. 

“I missed you, my sweet boy. Daddy missed you so much.” Derek smiles at him. “Do you know who else missed you?” 

He takes out Sheriff and puts him on the ground halfway between them. Stiles hesitates, desperately wanting to grab him but afraid to make a move. 

“Go on, pumpkin, give your puppy a hug.” Derek’s voice is soft. “He always makes you feel better.” 

Stiles reaches out his hand cautiously, then grabs Sheriff as fast as he can and cuddles him. It’s true, he _does_ feel better now. 

“I know it must have been so scary in there,” Derek says, voice still gentle. “Those bad people probably said and did horrible things. But Daddy’s here now. I’m going to take you home. You can see all of your toys, and we’ll have a bath, and read lots of bedtime stories…” 

He misses his toys. His piano, and stuffed animals, and his mermaids… 

“And no bad people will ever take you away again. I promise, sweetheart. Daddy loves you so much. Daddy will always be here to take care of you.” 

Stiles sniffles. He doesn’t know what to do. Every fiber of his being wants to jump into Daddy’s arms, close his eyes, and not look up ever again. But he’s scared. What if he refuses to come out? Could he just _leave?_

No. He couldn’t. Because the one thing he’s sure of is that he needs Derek in his life. He loves Derek. The idea of being without him just doesn’t make any sense. 

“Can you come out and give Daddy a hug?” 

But does Derek love _him?_ That’s what holds him back. He used to take it for granted but now his adult mind is back, and his adult mind remembers that _nobody_ has ever loved him, not for as long as he can remember. Why should Derek be any different? How does he know Derek isn’t tricking him like so many people before him? 

“Please, sweetheart.” Derek’s voice wavers for the first time. “Please come out of there. I miss you. I love you, Stiles. Please come out.” 

He’s begging. Nobody has ever begged for Stiles’ love before. Stiles is accosted with memories, of Derek’s hugs and kisses and praises and promises. Stiles has to believe him. If he doesn’t, then he’ll be all alone, and _anything_ would be better than that. 

Derek loves him, and Stiles loves Derek, and Stiles loves being little and playing and being carried around, and Derek is going to take care of him forever— so why is he still hiding in the bushes like an idiot? 

He sobs and crawls forward. Derek pulls him into his lap, holding him tightly, and Stiles finally lets go, wailing into his Daddy’s shirtfront. 

It’s all right now. He’s with his Daddy. He’s safe here, and he’s loved here, and everything is okay here. He clings to Daddy with all his might. 

“Shh,” Daddy murmurs. “You’re safe now, my little prince. My beautiful boy. I was so worried about you, but you were so brave, weren’t you?” 

Stiles thinks about telling Daddy about Chris, and the wolf who threatened him, and why he felt so mixed-up and scared that he just had to run. But right now it doesn’t feel like it matters. He sniffles, feeling a little bad about the mess he’s making out of Daddy’s shirt. “Wanna go home,” he whispers. 

“That’s a wonderful idea, pumpkin.” Daddy kisses his forehead and stands, cradling him so tightly he doesn’t feel a bit destabilized. “Let’s go home.” 

X 

_Allison._

 _Allison_

It’s the only thing Chris can think about. The only word in his head since he’d heard the boy say it. 

His daughter is alive. She’s only miles away. Nothing matters now except getting to her. 

He’d had to move fast after he’d learned where she was. It was imperative that the werewolves won. He’d blown up the hunters’ supply of wolfsbane weapons, then hid in the woods, waiting for the fighting to end. He felt little remorse as he watched his fellow hunters die. They weren’t his family. 

Then he follows the werewolves back to their little town. He moves silently behind them, a shadow hiding in their celebrations. There isn’t anyone guarding the border today, all spare hands were at the fight. It’s easy to sneak through. He stays in shadows, moving in the woods as stealthily as he can, following Derek Hale and Stiles back to their house. 

Allison is with someone named Scott and Kira. They’re in Derek’s pack, so they must live by him. Chris will find them. 

For a whole year he’d thought she was dead. They’ll pay for that. 

_Allison,_ he thinks again, staring at a blissful Derek carrying Stiles into their secure little home. Is Allison just as brainwashed as the others? She won’t be for long. _I’m coming._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the wait on this! I'll try to do better with the next chapter!  
> Lots of canon-typical violence towards the end of this chapter, as a heads-up.

Derek doesn’t think he’s ever been happier than he is as he takes his baby home. He’d been terrified at first that Stiles was going to refuse to come out, but as soon as he’d put Sheriff on the ground and Stiles grabbed it he knew everything would be all right. 

The shock finally seems to have caught up with Stiles and he’s curled up in Derek’s arms, head resting against Derek’s chest as Derek carries him home. His eyes are closed and he doesn’t make a sound, just cracks one eye open to look up at Derek every so often. Whenever that happens Derek smiles at him and softly kisses his forehead. 

He’ll have to be careful with the baby over the next few days, loving and gentle and reassuring. New toys will probably help, and a few nights in the basinet in Derek’s room. But first— Derek frowns down at the ridiculous oversized adult-style clothes Stiles is wearing— Stiles needs a bath, a diaper, and a fresh onesie. 

When they reach Beacon Hills he thanks Scott and Peter quickly for their help before heading for the house. “All your friends want to see you now that you’re back safe and sound,” he tells Stiles. “But we’ll wait until tomorrow to see anyone. Daddy wants some special time with his little boy, just the two of us.” 

He opens the front door to the house and carries Stiles inside. “There,” he says, feeling immense satisfaction and relief. “You’re home now.” 

Stiles’ lips curve up in the slightest of smiles. “Home,” he echoes. 

“Should we say hello to some of your toys? They’ve missed you.” Everything is just as Stiles left it— his keyboard in the playpen, his mermaids neatly packed away in their carrying case, Franklin the kitty splayed on the couch. Stiles’ eyes go right to the kitten and Derek smiles indulgently, picking it up and nestling it in Stiles’ arms next to Sheriff. He wants to make sure Stiles is completely relaxed before he gives him a bath and puts him back in proper clothes, so he walks upstairs to the nursery. 

“I don’t want a nap,” Stiles whines, clearly thinking Derek is taking him to the crib. 

“No, sweetheart, no nap.” Derek walks him close to the pictures he has hung up on the wall, of Derek and Stiles together on Halloween and during birthdays and at the pool. Derek loves looking at these pictures, and it can’t hurt to remind Stiles how happy he’s always been here, in case anything the hunters tried to tell him is lingering. “But I want to give you a little checkup to make sure you’re all right.” 

Stiles pouts a little but doesn’t fuss as Derek lays him down on the changing table and undresses him. He unceremoniously drops the clothes into the trash can, making a mental note to burn it all later. Stiles looks healthy enough, though Derek grabs the diaper crème in anticipation of a rash he’s sure is coming. No bruises, just a scrape on his arm he must have gotten last night. 

“Oh, pumpkin. Does this hurt?” Derek kisses it better, then generously applies Neosporin. Rather than dress the baby in a diaper he picks Stiles up, still naked, and carries him towards the bathroom. 

“Daddy?” 

“It’s bathtime now.” 

“I don’t want a bath!” 

“Sh, you haven’t had a bath in days, you need to get all nice and clean.” _And I need to get the smell of them off you_ , he adds silently as he starts the water. He adds a little bubble bath and then just sits with Stiles in his lap, watching the water fill the tub. 

“I know it might be hard right now,” he says quietly. “But someday, I want you to tell me what they did to you. It’s okay if you can’t say anything right now, it can wait. I know they probably tried to hurt you, or say awful things about you and me. They can’t hurt you anymore, that’s what important. But I will have to know eventually so I can help you feel better.” 

Stiles is quiet for a minute. “I think maybe one of them wasn’t bad,” he whispers eventually. “I think maybe he was my friend.” 

Derek’s heart clenches. “No, sweetheart. Nobody there was your friend.” 

“He _was._ He was nice to me. But he— he’s dead now, isn’t he?” Stiles’ voice is quivery, but it sounds older than it usually does. 

“If he tried to stop us from rescuing you, yes.” Derek wishes he could kill this person all over again for confusing Stiles so badly. “You said he was nice to you? Did he try to save you? Did he try to get you back home to Daddy?” 

“M-maybe. He said…he said he would help me if I told him something.” 

“If you told him what, sweetheart?” 

“About Allison. He wanted to know about the other babies here.” 

Not surprising. He wanted to kidnap the rest of them. “Stiles, he was trying to trick you. He was never going to let you come home. I’m sorry if he got hurt. You know werewolves don’t ever hurt humans unless they have to. But Daddy will always, always take care of you and come after you if somebody takes you away, so this time, we had to.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Stiles practically whispers. 

“Nuh-uh, what?” 

Stiles listlessly raises one shoulder, then lets it drop. “Sometimes werewolves hurt humans just because.” 

Derek feels that seizing in his chest again. “Did your new friend tell you that?” 

Stiles’ lip trembles. Without warning he turns and buries his face in Derek’s chest. Derek can hear him crying, taking in big gulps of air. He quickly shuts off the water, then wraps his arms around the baby, trying to soothe him as best he can. 

“I was s-scared,” Stiles hiccups into Derek’s shirt. 

“Sh, sh. Oh, my sweet boy. I know.” 

“I t-thought he w-was going to kill me too…” 

“Who? The hunter?” 

“N-no! The bad wolf! He was going to hurt me because I’m human! He _said_ …” Stiles’ voice dissolves in tears and Derek holds him tightly, letting him cry until Derek’s shirt is soaked. 

When Stiles has finally calmed down a little Derek shifts so Stiles is looking up at him and makes his voice stern. “Stiles, did one of the werewolves here threaten you?” 

Stiles blanches. 

“Who was it? I need to know.” 

Stiles whines and hides his face again. “I didn’t do anything bad to him,” he sobs. “Promise, Daddy, I didn’t do anything bad, but he wanted to hurt me anyway.” 

“I know you didn’t do anything bad. Sh, sh, everything’s all right. Daddy will take care of it. I need you to tell me who it was who threatened you, and what he said. He didn’t have any right to do that. Stiles, I want you to look at me.” Derek waits until he does. “Nobody tries to hurt you and gets away with it. No human and no werewolf. My first priority, always, is you.” 

“E-even though I’m human?” 

“Oh, Stiles.” Derek hears his own voice shake. “That doesn’t matter. Sh, sh, sh. I always tell you how special you are. You’re not bad like some humans, you’re the most perfect boy in the world. You mean more to me than any human or werewolf on earth, okay?” He keeps on rocking Stiles, holding him as tight as he possibly can. 

It takes Stiles a long, long time to cry himself out. When he’s finally finished Derek wipes his nose and kisses his forehead. “Tell me who it was,” he says quietly. 

For a second he thinks Stiles might not answer, but eventually he whispers. “D-Deucalion. The mean wolf you said I wasn’t allowed to visit.” 

“What did he do?” 

“He k-killed a human and then said he was going to kill m-me t-too. I was waiting for him to hurt me but he j-j-just ran away.” 

Of course he did. Stiles traumatized and afraid of Derek would be much more fun for him than Stiles dead. “My poor baby. I’m so sorry he did that to you, sweetheart. Daddy will take care of it. Daddy will make sure he never tries to hurt you again.” Derek brushes away one errant tear sneaking down Stiles’ cheek. “And you know Daddy would never, ever hurt you, right, baby? Daddy will always protect you from bad people like Deucalion— and the hunters. You’re safe here, my sweet boy. You know that, don’t you?” 

Stiles nods hesitantly. His breath is still coming in gasps, so Derek can barely make out what he’s saying: “D-Daddy…do you really…d-do you r-really…l-l-l…” 

“What, sweetheart?” Derek rubs his back. 

“They said…the humans said you didn’t…” For a second Derek thinks he’s going to start wailing again, but instead his face just crumbles and he hides his face in Derek’s shirt. The last words come out in a whimper: “That you didn’t really love me.” 

God _damn_ those hunters. “They were wrong,” Derek says quietly. “I love you more than anything or anyone else. I promise. You’re my little boy. Remember how I chose you, and brought you home, and promised to always take care of you? I love you so, so much. Do you know why?” 

Stiles blinks at him. “Because you’re my family,” Derek prompts. “Remember? My one and only little prince.” 

Stiles’ brow smooths out. He nods and rests his head against Derek’s chest, totally spent. “I ‘member,” he whispers. 

“And I’ll stay with you forever and ever. I just want my sweet boy to be safe and happy. I love you, Stiles.” 

He tries not to get his hopes up for a response, but after a few moments Stiles whispers: “I love you too, Daddy.” 

Derek spends a few more minutes cuddling him before finally putting him in the bath. Usually Stiles splashes all over during bathtime, asking for more bath toys and making up elaborate storylines with the rubber duckies, but today he just waits patiently as Derek scrubs him clean. When Derek is finished Stiles reaches both arms up and loops them around Derek’s neck, clinging to him. 

Derek carries him back to the nursery and puts him in a diaper, choosing one of the large, puffy ones usually reserved for bedtime. He feels unsure of how to proceed, without a single Society pamphlet to turn to. Should he age Stiles down, or treat him a little older until he’s sure the baby is comfortable again? “I think you should spend the rest of the day in jammies,” he says, rummaging with one hand in the dresser. 

Stiles smiles a little. “I like my jammies,” he murmurs. 

Derek is heartened by the reply. “And Daddy loves how cute you look in your jammies!” He dresses Stiles quickly and lifts him again. “Let’s get something into your tummy now.” 

Stiles shakes his head. “Not hungry, Daddy.” He yawns so hugely Derek hears his jaw click. “Sleepy.” 

“All right, Daddy will get out your bassinet.” 

Another head shake. “Chair,” Stiles demands. 

“You want to nap in the rocking chair with Daddy?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Okay, pumpkin.” Derek dims the nursery lights, then grabs a blanket and spreads it over both of them in the chair. Stiles makes a soft, contented noise and nestles into Derek’s arms, face already smoothing out in sleep. Derek stares down at him, wondering what other damage he might have to undo over the next few weeks. 

X 

Kira puts Allison down for naptime, but when naptime is over it’s Scott lifting her out of the crib. Allison feels herself smile immediately; she’s missed him. “Daddy!” 

“Hi princess! I missed you!” Scott gives her a big kiss on the cheek as he carries her over to the changing table. “Guess what? Stiles is home now! Everyone is back all safe and sound.” 

She wonders what that means for the humans who took him, but her brain shies away from the thoughts. “Can I see him?” 

“In a little bit. He needs some time with his daddy right now.” Scott beams at her after unwrapping her diaper. “My good girl went potty during her nap! Daddy is so proud of her!” 

They’ve started praising her every time she uses her diaper, just like they did when she first got here. She knows they can tell that she’s started to cave in, but it’s too hard to resist it. 

Scott carries her downstairs to the kitchen and puts her into the high chair before joining Kira at the counter to make dinner. “Now that things have calmed down we need to schedule Ally’s appointment with the doctor,” she hears Kira say in a quiet voice to Scott. “She’s already overdue for her one-year checkup.” 

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” 

“We need to talk about what shots we want.” 

“Tomorrow.” Scott glances over at Allison and drops his voice even lower. “Little pitchers have big ears.” 

Kira laughs at him. “What does that even mean?” 

“I don’t know, my mom used to say it.” He uses the Baby Bullet on the counter to purée vegetables for Allison. “Let’s have a family movie night tonight,” he says cheerfully. “How does that sound, honey? We can all watch something fun together.” He passes by Kira and Allison hears him whisper, “And then Mommy and Daddy can watch something more grown-up when the baby is in bed.” 

Allison smiles at him as he sits down and fastens a bib around her neck. Family movie night sounds fun. It’s the first time they’ve ever done anything like that and she knows it’s probably a reward for her good behavior. 

Scott smiles back at her as he feeds her. Kira turns on the radio as she continues preparing the “adult” food and Allison feels an almost foreign sense of contentment as she eats. 

X 

There she is. 

Chris can barely breathe as he stares straight through the window at Allison. The male werewolf had carried her into the kitchen a few minutes ago and strapped her into some kind of adult high chair. She’s trapped in there, probably suffering God only knows what agonies. 

His finger tightens on the trigger of the gun he’d grabbed before he blew up the rest of the supply. He longs to shoot right through the window, take out each werewolf. But that wouldn’t be smart. He has to wait, to ensure he can get away with his daughter. 

He stares into the window unblinkingly. With all his heart he wills Allison to look outside, so she can see him and know he’s coming, but she never does. 

X 

After a long, long nap Stiles wakes up still in the rocking chair with Daddy. Daddy smooths his hair, smiling. “Feel better, sweetheart?” 

Stiles smiles back and nods. Before his nap he was really upset, but now he just feels warm and happy. Daddy loves him. He’d _promised_ to love him forever. “Much better.” 

Daddy beams at him. Stiles remembers how scary his face had been when he’d asked who the bad wolf was. It always amazes Stiles that Daddy’s face can change like that— and that he’s never mad enough at Stiles to have his scary face on because of something Stiles has done. “Now, I know your tummy must be ready for some food.” 

Stiles wrinkles his nose. His stomach still feels kind of upset after all that solid food, and his jaw aches at the memory of chewing it. “Just a bottle for now, and some rice pudding later if you feel up to it,” Daddy promises. “Daddy doesn’t want you getting sick.” 

Stiles looks around contentedly as he’s carried downstairs. It’s nice to be home. Everything is just the way he remembers it, with pictures of him and Daddy up everywhere and his toys scattered in the living room. What would Daddy have done with them if he hadn’t gotten Stiles back? Would he have just left them there _forever?_

He remembers how Daddy’s house had been when he first brought Stiles home. It had felt so empty. No toys or pictures. Daddy had been all alone here, and if Stiles went away forever, he would be alone again. The thought makes him sad and he hugs Daddy tightly. 

“Cuddles,” Daddy says in satisfaction, squeezing Stiles back. “How did you know Daddy wanted cuddles?” 

“Cuddles are good,” Stiles says decisively. 

“Very good.” Daddy makes his milk and sits with him on the couch so he can drink it while still cuddling with Daddy. 

Drinking from the bottle feels a little funny at first, but Daddy is patient with him, tilting it at just the right angle so Stiles can drink slowly. After he’s finished Daddy turns on the TV. Dora is on, Stiles loves Dora. He watches for a while, thumb slipping into his mouth absentmindedly as Daddy rubs lazy circles on his stomach. This feels normal. This feels _right_. It’s like he can feel himself slipping back into the right headspace. 

Tomorrow he’ll get to see his friends again. Uncle Peter, and Donovan, and Allison… 

Thinking of Allison makes him remember Chris, and he frowns. Chris had been nice to him. And he’d said Stiles would be back with Daddy by the end of the day. Had he been _helping_ the werewolves, maybe? What if he had been, and the werewolves killed him anyway? 

Daddy can tell that his mood has changed and he mutes the television. “What’s wrong, pumpkin? Are you sad?” 

“I don’t know,” Stiles mumbles. 

“Hmm.” Daddy sits him up. “Let’s figure this out. Are you still Daddy’s favorite boy in the world?” 

Stiles cracks a tiny smile. “Yes.” 

“And is Daddy going to take care of you forever and ever?” 

“Uh-huh,” Stiles says with more confidence. 

“And is Daddy going to take you to the toy store tomorrow and buy you anything you want?” 

Stiles perks up considerably at that. He loves the toy store, with its towers of stuffed animals stretching to the ceiling and toy trains on tracks crisscrossing the whole floor and a costume closet bigger than his nursery. “Yes?” he says hopefully. 

“Yes,” Daddy confirms, tickling his sides until he squeals. “So what is there to be sad about?” 

“Nothing,” Stiles says promptly. He snuggles against Daddy, already dreaming about what toys he wants to get tomorrow. “I was just thinking about Chris,” he confides softly. 

“Who’s Chris, sweetheart?” 

“My friend. The hunter.” 

Daddy sighs. “I told you, pup, he wasn’t really your friend. No hunter could ever be your friend. They don’t even know us, but they want to hurt us. How does that make any sense, huh?” 

Stiles frowns, suddenly remembering part of his conversation with Chris. “He _did_ know you, Daddy. He knew your name…and Uncle Peter’s.” 

Something about the way Daddy is sitting changes, even though Stiles is pretty sure he doesn’t move. “Are you sure?” 

“Uh-huh. When we were talking about Allison—and maybe he knew her too because he kept asking questions about her—” 

_“Shit!”_ Now Daddy does move, wrapping one arm securely around Stiles’ waist and grabbing the phone with his other. “Scott!” he barks into the phone. “ _Chris Argent_ was with the hunters today! I didn’t see him with the others— he could be on his way here right now. Hide Allison. I’m on my way.” 

“Daddy? What’s going on?” Stiles clings to his daddy as he stands up from the couch with Stiles in his arms. 

“We have to go over to Uncle Scott’s right now. Your _friend_ is coming for Allison.” 

Stiles holds on tight, heart pounding as Daddy heads for the door. 

X 

Chris watches through the window as the male werewolf picks up the phone. He relaxed posture changes, going stiff and straight. Within moments he drops the phone and runs for the living room. Chris’ pulse quickens. Do they know he’s here? 

He gets his answer as he watches the man grab Allison, holding her tightly and protectively. He’s lost the element of surprise. Within minutes there will be a whole pack here looking for him. If he’s going to save his daughter, it has to be now. 

His finger tightens on the trigger. 

X 

Scott drops the phone before Derek has even finished speaking. A hunter is coming for his baby. He races into the living room, where Allison is sitting in her bouncer. 

“Kir!” he shouts, lifting Allison out and holding her so tight she squeaks. “Come in here!” 

“Daddy?” Allison asks nervously. 

“Sh, angel, everything’s all right. Kira!” 

Kira rushes into the room. “I’m here! What’s going on?” 

“Take the baby upstairs. One of the hunters is coming. He—” The hair on the back of Scott’s neck pricks up and he turns to see a man aiming a gun through the window, straight at him. 

Instinct kicks in and he grabs his wife, dropping to the ground with her and Allison in his arms. He hears the window shatter as the man fires into the living room. Allison screams. 

“Take her!’’ Scott shouts, pushing the baby into Kira’s arms. He has to neutralize the threat; protect his family. As he scrambles to his feet he can see the hunter— Chris Argent, identifiable from the pictures in Allison’s file— at the window, pushing in the broken glass, trying to force his way inside. 

Scott snarls and feels fur start to sprout as he crouches defensively. Chris’ face changes too, lips baring as he raises his gun again. Scott will have to kill him before he can hurt anyone here. It’s the only way. 

He spares one last look at Allison, who’s frantically twisting in Kira’s arms, trying to see what’s going on. Then the glass in the window shatters totally and Chris pulls himself through. Scott leaps and meets him, trying to tear at the hunter’s vulnerable spots. Chris is panting beneath him, trying to aim his gun, trying to get his finger to the trigger. 

Scott has just found Chris’ jugular with his claw when he hears Allison’s frantic scream: _“Daddy!”_

Both men freeze. Scott can hear Allison crying as Kira rushes her upstairs. Who had she been crying out for? Had she recognized Chris? 

“Allison!” Chris shouts. He pushes against Scott. “Ally!” He swings the gun towards Scott, eyes wild, and Scott moves on instinct. There’s a blur of movement between them, a frantic struggle for control, and in a moment of pure panic Scott finds something soft and rakes his claws over it. 

He feels Chris go lax against him. There’s something red in his eyes and he blinks it away to see the hunter swaying, one hand clasped confusedly over his throat. Blood pumps from beneath his fingers. His eyes meet Scott’s and he falls to his knees. There’s a choked rattle as he collapses. 

All the breath leaves Scott’s body. He hadn’t meant to do it. But it had been the only way, hadn’t it? 

From faraway he can still hear his baby girl crying. If she saw Chris— she’ll know what’s happened to him. What Scott did to him. She can never, ever recover from that. 

He’ll lose her just as surely as he would have if Chris had taken her. 

He hears the front door bang open and he looks up dazedly to see Derek, Stiles in his arms. Derek immediately hides Stiles’ eyes from the sight on the floor. “I killed him,” Scott says dazedly. “I didn’t meant to—” 

Derek shakes his head. His eyes are on Chris. “Not yet, you didn’t.” 

Scott looks. There’s a pulse, he sees beneath the blood. Barely a flutter. 

“Daddy?” he can hear Stiles whimpering. “Daddy?” 

“Sh, sweetheart.” Derek is clutching Stiles, still keeping him from looking. Protecting him. That’s their job, to protect these chosen humans. And now Scott has done something unthinkable— something Allison can never recover from. 

Or maybe not. Maybe it doesn’t have to be this way. Chris is still breathing. But Chris’ eyes are wide open and going fixed, and Scott has only seconds now; only seconds to decide. 

“It’s your call,” Derek says quietly, reading his mind. 

He hears Allison sobbing upstairs and Kira trying to hush her. Scott would give his little girl the world. He has to give her this. 

He clasps his hands over Chris’ wound, finds the pulse with his teeth, and bites.


	7. Chapter 7

**Two Weeks Later**

Every minute of every day Chris Argent wishes he was dead. He wishes with all his heart that the werewolf had just let him bleed out and die there on the floor, tossed his body in a dumpster and been done with it. That would have been better than this. _Anything_ — even becoming one of their brainwashed slaves himself— would have been better than this. 

He’d woken up what must have been hours later in a white room and knew instantly what had happened. Sound and light and emotion all rushed at him, too strong; supernaturally strong. They’d _changed_ him. Corrupted his humanity and made him _this_. 

Something that needs to be hunted. 

When he escapes from here, he’ll head straight from the surviving hunters out there. They’d be happy to do him in themselves. 

It might not come to that, though. He’s not sure, but he has a suspicion that the werewolves might just kill him themselves. With his new hearing he’s something heard snippets of an argument involving him. He thinks he hears Derek Hale’s voice advocating on his behalf, but that can’t be right. Hale would want him dead, surely. 

It’s the blind werewolf who wants to tear out his throat. Chris has been interrogated by him several times. They want to know if he can ever embrace life as a werewolf, or if he still has the mindset of a human, desperate to destroy what he now is. 

That _is_ still his mindset. It always will be. There is no worse fate than being a monster. 

So even though he knows it will mean leaving Allison trapped here forever, even though the thought of what her life will be now makes him want to use his new claws to tear apart the world, he sits alone in his little white room and prays once again for death. 

X 

Derek hovers in the kitchen, drumming his fingers with impatience against the bar. He can hear voices murmuring from the living room and he tries not to focus too intently. He’d promised this little session would be in complete confidence. 

In the month since the little ones were taken and then rescued the Society has been frantically trying to make sure no effects are lingering. Derek and all the other werewolves who had someone taken have been receiving booklet after booklet offering tips, but since this situation is unprecedented it seems like the advice changes daily. _Regress them. Let them act as old as they want to for a little while. Don’t force them to talk about what happened. Get the full story so you know what doubts they might have._ It’s been exhausting, especially since Derek has also been dealing with the whole Chris situation. 

Finally the Society offered to send out trained psychiatrists to talk to the babies personally. Stiles is in the living room with someone named Mary, who will hopefully be able to tell Derek if his little boy is going to be okay. 

Stiles has to be okay. 

Derek thinks he is, but it’s so hard to tell. He doesn’t want to talk about his time with the hunters, especially after he’d learned what had happened to his “friend” Chris. It must be shocking to him that a human can be turned into a werewolf like that. He must still be stewing over the way Deucalion had threatened him— Derek hasn’t had the time to confront Deucalion about it given the current battle over whether Chris Argent will live or die. 

If Deucalion gets his way and Chris is executed, not only will Scott spiral into a hole of guilt but Stiles will think of the werewolves as villains. _Murderers._ That’s unacceptable. 

Derek’s thoughts are interrupted as Mary walks back into the kitchen. She smiles at the look on his face. “First of all, you have nothing to worry about,” she says gently. “He adores you. As strong a bond between Daddy and baby that I’ve ever seen.” 

Hearing that is such a relief Derek thinks he might collapse. “Good,” he says hoarsely. “That said, I think there are some actions you could take to help him stay just as devoted to you as he is now. There are some doubts and confusion in his mind. That’s to be expected given the…terrible shock in your community. But it’s your job to help him overcome that, right?” 

“Yes. Of course.” 

“Good.” Mary flips back a page 

on her notepad. “I’m not sure if you had any immediate plans to regress him, but if you do, put that on hold. Instead, I want you to let him do one thing that makes him feel a bit bigger. That might be, say, letting him watch a more adult movie, or even potty training, if you want to take it that far. He told me…” she quotes from the page. “Daddy doesn’t want me to be any bigger because then I’d be a bad human and Daddy wouldn’t love me anymore.” 

Derek’s heart almost breaks. “He said that?” 

“Yes. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that mindset. He associates grown-up actions with “badness,” which is exactly the way you want him to be thinking. We certainly don’t want him thinking it’s okay to act like an adult! But ideally he won’t think he has to _act_ little to earn your love— he’ll just know that he’s supposed to _be_ little. Your love should always be taken for granted by him, never conditioned. If your love is only reason to stay little, and he gets it in his head that _werewolves_ are the bad ones after what those terrible people tried to tell him, it’s much easier for him to decide that he doesn’t care about whether or not you love him anymore and snap out of the proper mindset. So let him have one grown-up privilege, show him you’re willing to be flexible. Once he’s calmed down a little you can revoke it and regress him down as little as you want.” 

“I can do that.” 

“Good. Now, let’s move on to my more serious concern.” Mary sighs almost mournfully. “Mr. Argent. Has there been any decision on what’s to be done?” 

“Not yet.” 

“Personally, I can’t conceive of destroying a werewolf life, even one that used to be…well. It doesn’t matter. Right now the primary concern is that Stiles didn’t know humans could be turned into werewolves, and he feels hurt and confused about why you haven’t turned _him_.” 

Derek tries not to groan. He’d been worried about that but hadn’t wanted to give Stiles the whole talk; their version of the birds and the bees. “What exactly did he say?” 

“That maybe you’re keeping him human as a punishment. Maybe you don’t love him enough to do it, or think he’s already too much of a bad human to ever really be a werewolf. Things like that. He didn’t want to talk about it much.” 

For fuck’s sake. Maybe Derek should have just told Scott to let Chris die. “What do I do?” 

“Reassure him that he’s perfect just as he is. Lie if you have to.” Mary reaches across the counter to pat his hand soothingly. “But like I said, you shouldn’t worry. The little ones get silly thoughts in their heads all the time. There’s always a way to correct it and I have no doubt that you can. Have a nice long talk with him, try and give him an adult privilege like I suggested, and we’ll see how it goes. If it doesn’t work, get back in touch with me and we’ll discuss other options. All right?” 

“Yes. Thank you.” Derek sees her out, then walks into the living room. Stiles is tummy-down on the carpet, playing with his safari animals. He looks up when Derek enters, hair a little mussed, looking just as sweet and innocent as ever. Derek smiles at him. “Did you have a nice time talking with Miss Mary?” Derek hadn’t told Stiles who she was or why she was there, just that a “nice lady” would be coming by to see him. 

“Uh-huh.” Stiles holds a lion up to him. “Play, Daddy?” 

“In a minute, pup. I want to talk to you first.” Derek sits down and pats his lap so Stiles will crawl in. He feels so nice and warm and heavy, automatically nuzzling into Derek’s chest. The idea of him having any uncomfortable thoughts, any _doubts_ , makes Derek’s heart ache. “Miss Mary told me that you were having some yucky thoughts after what happened to Chris.” 

Stiles pulls a little face. “Nuh-uh,” he says, not very convincingly. 

“Really? She said that you were surprised a human could be turned into a werewolf. Do you want to talk about that?” 

There’s a pause as Stiles chews his thumb. “Will I ever be a werewolf?” he asks in a tiny voice. 

Good. A nice clear question that calls for a simple enough answer. “No, my sweet boy. It’s very dangerous for a human to be turned into a werewolf. They don’t always live through it. That Chris did is a miracle. Daddy would never, ever put you at risk like that.” 

Stiles’ voice drops a little so Derek can barely hear him. “W-would you love me more if I was a werewolf?” 

“I couldn’t love you any more than I already do,” Derek answers promptly. “You’re my beautiful, perfect little prince. The very best baby boy in the whole world. And if you were a werewolf— you wouldn’t be my little boy anymore. You would be a grown-up just like Daddy. You don’t want to live like that, do you? Dress yourself in big-boy clothes every day? Live in a house all by yourself?” Derek makes a mock-horrified face. “Pay _taxes?_ No, no, no. That’s no fun for my baby. You just want to stay right here with Daddy, right?” He flips up Stiles’ Elmo-patterned shirt and blows a raspberry on his belly. 

Stiles presses close to him, giggling. “Uh-huh.” He considers, sweet little face all wrinkled up with concentration. “What if I was hurt really really bad like Chris? Would I be a werewolf _then?_ ” 

Derek stares at him, thrown off by the question. “That won’t ever happen, Stiles.” 

“But maybe if it did?” 

“It _won’t_. But if I had to…of course I would. In a heartbeat.” He would, of course. Wouldn’t he? Yes. He would mourn, and he would probably move far, far away once he was sure Stiles could make it on his own, but yes, of course Stiles’ survival came first. 

Stiles touches the corners of his mouth. “Don’t frown, Daddy.” 

“I don’t like to think about you being hurt, pup.” Derek shakes the horrible idea off. “Let’s not think about it anymore, all right?” 

“Okay,” Stiles says agreeably. 

“Do you feel better now?” 

Stiles nods. He gives up on the toys and sinks into Derek’s lap, sneaking his thumb into his mouth. “Love you, Daddy,” he mumbles. 

“Love you more, sweetheart.” Derek kisses his forehead, trying to see if he’s eliminated all of Stiles’ doubts or if some remain. Is there a frown line on Stiles’ forehead that wasn’t there before? A slight hesitation before he rests his head against Derek’s chest? Derek just can’t tell. This is all Deucalion’s fault, he thinks for the thousandth time. If he hadn’t threatened Stiles, if he hadn’t put those doubts into his head… “Do you want to talk about Chris some more?” 

“Nuh-uh. Except…is he safe now, Daddy? He’s not a bad human anymore?” 

“That’s right, now he’s a werewolf. But it takes him some time to get rid of all his bad thoughts, that’s why he’s been staying locked away for a while.” 

“He’s in _jail_ ,” Stiles says knowingly. 

“No, not jail. We don’t have jails here. It’s just a room where he’s safe, until he’s ready to come out and join us. Then he’ll be your friend for real.” That might be going a bit far. If Chris ever does come out, Derek doesn’t see how he could ever live here, with Allison staying with Scott and Kira. They certainly shouldn’t be expected to give her up, especially not now when she’s been making so much progress. 

Stiles nods again and yawns hugely. “Naptime,” Derek says decisively, standing and swinging Stiles into his arms. 

“No,” Stiles whines. “Don’t want naptime.” 

He’s been fighting naptime all week. “We’ll read a story first, all right? Any story you want. Two if you don’t whine about taking your nap anymore.” 

Stiles’ eyebrows draw together, but he must decide getting two stories is worth it. “Will you sing me Sunshine too?” 

Derek smiles, relieved. Stiles must be feeling all right if he’s asking for a lullaby. “Of course, my sweet boy.” He kisses Stiles’ forehead, patting his back as he carries him upstairs. 

He’s moved Stiles’ crib and the rocking chair into his room for the time being, knowing that his poor little boy is prone to nightmares. Stiles spends a very long time choosing his stories but finally selects two, happily snuggling into Derek’s lap to listen. As Derek reads he thinks about what Mary had said. A more adult privilege… 

“Daddy has a good idea,” he says when the first story is over. “How about we spend some special time reading together each day, from a big book? We can read _Harry Potter_ together. Would you like that, pumpkin?” 

Stiles beams. “Every day? Not just bedtime?” 

“Every day.” Derek likes this idea more and more as he thinks about it. It’s still childish, but grown-up enough that it should do the trick, and it’ll mean more bonding time for him and the baby every day. Besides, it’s a nice parallel: a boy taken from his ordinary life into a world of magic, where everything is better. Just like what happened when Derek saved Stiles. “Daddy will buy the books today.” 

Stiles claps his hands with excitement, making Derek laugh before he opens the next book and starts to read. As Derek expected Stiles is yawning halfway through the first story and has drooping eyelids by the second, so Derek finishes the story quickly. Since he promised he sings a few quick bars of “You Are My Sunshine” before lying Stiles down in the crib and tenderly tucking him in under his new blue blanket. 

He stays in the room for a few moments to make sure the baby is deeply asleep before slipping out. Maybe he should do some additional online shopping, find a few new toys for Stiles. He’s been spoiling him ridiculously, but a little more can’t hurt. He buys the books online, tossing in a stuffed owl and play wand while he’s at it. That’s a good start, but he can get even more for his sweet boy. Stiles deserves it, after all, and Derek loves to spoil him. 

At the same site where Derek bought the mermaids, he can get a case with customized wolves. Maybe Stiles would like that, especially if there are some little pups mixed in with the big wolves… 

He’s just finished customizing the order and is putting in his credit care information when the phone rings. “Derek,” Scott says, sounding desperate. “You have to get over here. Deucalion is saying he’s going to kill Chris. He won’t listen to me.” 

“Right now?” 

“Any minute! You’re the only one I can think of who can stop him!” 

Derek swears under his breath as he ends the call. For a moment he thinks longingly of just letting Deucalion do it—his life would be a hell of a lot more pleasant with Chris Argent off the planet. But he’d promised Stiles werewolves were better than that. He has to be the hero, for his little boy’s sake. 

Deucalion doesn’t get to make this decision. He’s gone too far now. He’d gone too far a _while_ ago, but Derek finally has a chance to do something about it. 

He considers calling Peter to babysit, but he doesn’t really have time. He hurries to the nursery, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over his shoulder before lifting Stiles out of the crib. The baby whines plaintively. 

“Sh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry, but we have to go for a little drive.” “No, Daddy, _nap_.” Stiles sneaks his thumb into his mouth and burrows against Derek’s shoulder. 

“You can sleep in the car.” Derek heads for the car after tucking Sheriff into Stiles’ arms. Stiles whines a few more times as Derek straps him into car seat, lolling his head against the side so he doesn’t have to wake up fully. 

Derek speeds to get there quickly. By the time they arrive Stiles has grudgingly woken up. “Daddy?” he yawns. “Why’re we driving?” 

“Daddy has to take care of something. Wait in your car seat, pumpkin, Uncle Scott will be out in a moment.” Derek hesitates. The enormity of what he’s going to do is only just catching up to him. “I love you, sweetheart.” 

Stiles smiles at him around the thumb in his mouth. “Love you too, Daddy,” he yawns. 

He gets out of the car, locks it, and heads towards the door. Scott is waiting just inside, eyes frantic. “Duke’s on the phone with a few other alphas right now, trying to get their support before he kills Chris. I can’t stop him.” 

“I know. But I can.” Derek tosses Scott his keys. “Stiles is in the car. Go sit with him. I’ll be out in a little bit. If I’m not…you know where my will is.” 

Scott blanches but takes the keys. Derek stalks down the hall, following the sound of Deucalion’s voice until he reaches the room where the alpha is on the phone. “Duke,” he says flatly. 

The alpha turns, putting down his phone. His lips curls as he recognizes Derek’s voice. “What are you doing here? You can’t really want that _hunter_ to live, can you?” 

“He’s not a hunter anymore.” 

“I’ve decided, Derek. You’ll have to fight me to save him. You can’t want that.” Deucalion drops his voice persuasively. “Is he worth it?” 

“No. He’s not.” Derek takes a breath. He remembers what Stiles told him, how Deucalion had threatened him. “But Stiles is.” 

He feels his claws sharpen. Deucalion stiffens as he realizes what Derek plans to do and Derek watches as his face bristles, eyes glowing lustily. The two alphas circle each other, preparing for a fight that only one can survive. 

X 

Allison is sleepy again. She’s been sleepy ever since that terrible day when her father finally found her. It’s the milk. They’re drugging it again to keep her from thinking. To keep her from _remembering_. 

But she still does. 

Her father is alive, she’s almost sure of it. But there’s something wrong with him. He’s being kept away from her. A part of her is glad. She doesn’t know if she even wants to see him again. In that moment when he’d crashed through the window she had been so _scared_. She’d cried out, not for him, but for Scott. She hadn’t wanted her father to take her back to that big drafty house, where she was always so alone… 

She’d wanted to _stay_. That’s horrible, she knows; it’s a total betrayal of her family and herself. And she got what she wanted, didn’t she? She’s stuck here and her dad is god knows where, going through god knows what… 

She feels a soft hand stroking her cheek and the rubbery nipple of the bottle presses against her lips. “Here you go, sweetheart.” 

It’s Kira. Allison drinks obediently, cracking her eyes open as she does so. Kira’s been feeding her all day. She hasn’t seen Scott since this morning. He’d seemed agitated when he ran out—it must have something to do with her father. 

Is he dead? Is he coming back? She has to know, even if she isn’t sure yet what she really wants. 

“My dad,” she mumbles, needing to know what’s happening. 

Kira hushes her. “Daddy’s getting some work done, princess, he’ll be back soon.” 

Allison shakes her head, frustrated. “My “Oh, my lovely girl. I know how confusing it is.” Kira’s voice is gentle. She carries Allison upstairs and lies her down in the crib. Allison closes her eyes, trying to push all thoughts of her father out of her head, and waits for her Daddy to come home. 

X 

Stiles is happy. He’s sitting in the car with his Uncle Scott, waiting for Daddy to come back out. He doesn’t know what Daddy’s doing right now, but if Stiles isn’t allowed to be with him maybe it’s a surprise for him. Daddy’s been giving him lots of surprises lately. 

They’re going to read _Harry Potter!_ Stiles can’t wait. He read the first book a long time ago and had loved it so much he’d gotten the second book out of the library, but then his foster brother had taken it and Stiles had been too afraid to go back to the library, because people who don’t return books or pay fines go to _jail_. 

He frowns at the memory for popping into his head. He’s not supposed to think about life before Daddy, especially not all the bad stuff. 

“Daddy’s going to read me _Harry Potter_ ,” he tells Uncle Scott happily. 

“That’s great, buddy.” Scott sounds distracted. He keeps staring out the window. Stiles pouts; it’s not nice when people don’t want to talk to him. 

“I want my next birthday to be a Harry Potter birthday! You and Aunt Kira can come, and Allison, and maybe Chris too if he’s out of jail by then.” 

Scott makes a sudden funny movement. Stiles stops short, staring at him. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Sorry.” 

It’s not nothing. Something’s wrong. Stiles _knows_ stuff like that, even though people think he's too little to figure it out. He looks out the window too. They’re not in front of a toy store or party shop. Maybe Daddy _isn’t_ getting him a surprise. But why would he wake Stiles up from naptime? Why is Uncle Scott out here with him? He gets a bad feeling all over, and he remembers the day the bad humans took him. He feels just like that now. Like something terrible is going to happen. 

“Where’s my Daddy?” he whispers. 

Scott doesn’t answer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys! Thanks for the support!

Derek’s focus narrows to a single point. He can hear his own heartbeat, slow and steady, as he circles Deucalion. 

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am right now, Derek,” Duke murmurs. “I’ve been hoping to get rid of you for years.” 

Derek doesn’t take the bait. He just keeps moving, looking for an in. He hates fighting with other alphas, but there is just no choice here. 

“I’m sure you’ve made arrangements for your little human to go to your uncle or your second once you’re dead. But I’ll have control over the Hale pack having defeated you. What should I do with him?” Deucalion’s voice is soft and deadly. “Should I try to convince him that werewolves are just big cuddly puppies, like you do? Or should I tell him the truth?” 

The others would never allow it. Peter and Scott would protect Stiles to the death. 

“You have no idea how much I wanted you, Derek. When you first came here and took control of your little pack, I thought I would be able to win you over without even trying. After what they did to you. But you’re just so _pathetic_ …you needed another one to love you. Once you took away its ability to hurt you, of course, like a cat you had declawed because you’re too afraid to face something’s true nature. It’s so pitiful. I hate to see a waste like this, and that’s why I’ll enjoy killing your boy.” 

Derek moves. He’s so focused that everything seems to be moving in slow motion. He tears with his teeth and claws, focusing on inflicting as much pain as possible. Deucalion is the strongest wolf he’s ever fought. If he wants to win, he has to go on the offensive. 

Deucalion stops taunting. He’s tight, just as focused as Derek, seeming to anticipate his every move before it’s made. 

There is no question of how he wants this fight to end. He will kill Derek, make a mess of his body and carry him out for Stiles and the rest of the Hale pack to see. It will be the best triumph of his life. 

It’s that image, of Stiles watching Deucalion bringing Derek’s ruined body out, that drives Derek forward, pushing him into a new realm he’s never been in before during a fight. He seems to grow several inches, becomes more nimble with his claws than he’s ever been before. He feels, more than sees, Deucalion take a step back, and then another, and another, until suddenly Derek has him against the corner. Derek pierces his shoulder with his claws and drags him down to his knees. Deucalion struggles for a moment, and then, as Derek keeps him pinned down, relaxes in defeat. 

It’s over. Derek has won. Where it goes from here is his choice. 

He could kill Deucalion. In many ways it would be the best thing to do. But Derek can’t walk back outside with blood on his hands and shirt and face his little boy. 

“You’re leaving,” he says. He releases his claws from Deucalion’s shoulder, but keeps him held down, reminding him that this is mercy. “Today. Take your pack and go. The Society will help you relocate. Find a community that better suits your worldview. We don’t want you here anymore.” 

Deucalion simply kneels there a moment. Then he smiles, a mocking, twisted little smile. “Even more pathetic than I realized,” he says softly. “You can’t even kill now. You have to send me away so you won’t need to face the truth.” 

“I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what you think. I just want you gone.” Derek struggles to rein himself in as his voice starts to rise. “Go out the back way. If you delay, I’ll make sure everyone here knows that I defeated you. All the respect you’ve built up will be gone. Go start over with your reputation still intact.” 

“And what will you do?” Deucalion’s voice drips scorn. “Go tell the human that the bad man is all gone now, but he shouldn’t worry, because Daddy didn’t even get his hands dirty? You should really be careful, Derek. Get any weaker and you won’t even be able to fight him off when he inevitably turns on you.” 

“I’m not weak. I just defeated you. Now _go!_ ” Derek roars the last word, and Deucalion is raw enough from the loss that he flinches a little. He tries to keep his dignity and he stands and leaves the room, but Derek sees the slight stoop in his shoulders, the diminished nature of an alpha that has been defeated. 

Derek waits until he is certain that he’s gone, and then he storms over to the locked room where Chris Argent is being kept and shoves it open. Chris looks up, eyes blank and empty, curling his lip when he recognizes Derek. 

“Are you here to kill me?” 

“I just saved your life. No need to thank me.” Emotions flare and die in Derek by turns. Hatred. Grief. Fear. Resignation. “Your time to feel sorry for yourself is over.” 

“You took my _humanity_.” Chris’ voice is raw. “Do you know what that’s like? I spent my life hunting what I am now.” 

“You don’t need to remind me of that.” 

“I didn’t have anything to do with the fire.” Chris looks up at the ceiling as if he’s holding back tears. ‘But you took my daughter anyway.” 

“Yes, we did. We _monsters_ took your daughter away from a family that treated her like dirt and gave her two loving parents, a home, and a lifetime guarantee of safety.” 

“You’re treating her like a _child_ when she’s an adult!” 

“And you treated her like she was an adult when she was a child. How old was she when her grandfather or aunt put a weapon in her hands? You didn’t even bother to stop it. You didn’t _deserve_ her. This is your second chance, so fucking _take it!_ ” 

Chris is silent as the words echo around the room. “Will you let me see her?” he asks quietly. 

“That’s not my decision. It’s Scott and Kira’s. I won’t have you in my pack, but there are two neighboring packs I can refer you to. You’ll be right nearby.” 

“I don’t want a pack. I want to be on my own.” 

“That’s not safe. No werewolves are allowed to be alone here.” Derek waits, but Chris doesn’t respond. “She _is_ safe, Chris. Safe and happy. And she’ll be happier knowing you’re alive and close by.” 

The silence goes on even longer this time. Then Chris mumbles: “What do I have to do next?” 

“I’ll get a town official here to help you. They’ll find a place for you to stay and get you set up with your new pack.” 

“How can I…who do I need to talk to about Allison?” 

“I’ll talk to Scott for you.” Scott will want his advice, but Derek can’t give it. Scott has to figure this one out on his own. 

Chris’ voice is so quiet Derek almost thinks he’s imagining it. “Okay.” He looks up again, blinking back tears. “I’ll do it.” 

Derek calls a town rep and asks them to come over quickly. Then he heads back outside, anxious to break the news to Scott. 

The car is still idling. Scott is in the backseat, trying to comfort Stiles. The baby is wailing, face red, thrashing in Scott’s arms. Derek can hear him through the car window, barely even able to catch his breath through his tears. 

“Stiles!” Derek runs the rest of the way, nearly tearing off the car door. “Oh, my baby, what is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Daddy!” Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck. “Th-the bad wolf was g-going to _kill you!”_

Derek throws an exasperated look at Scott, who shrugs helplessly in response. “No, sweetheart. Daddy went in to talk to the bad wolf. I yelled at him for being so mean to you and told him he has to leave. He’s never going to bother you again.” 

Stiles sniffles. “Promise?” 

“Promise. Did you think Daddy wasn’t going to come back?” Derek wipes Stiles’ nose and kisses his cheek. “My silly boy. Daddy always comes back to his baby.” 

Stiles nods, melting into Derek’s arms. His eyes flutter closed. The poor baby has tired himself out with all his tears. “Let’s go home,” Derek whispers to him. He looks over at Scott and nods shortly to tell him that Chris is safe. Scott swallows, looking a little sick, but relieved at the same time. 

“Home _now_ , Daddy,” Stiles mumbles a little petulantly, eyes still shut. Derek hides a smile and buckles him back into his carseat, feeling his hands shake a little leftover adrenaline. He tries to forget Deucalion’s words. 

They don’t matter anymore. He’s gone. 

X 

Allison wakes up from her nap when Scott comes home. She eyes him warily through the bars of the crib. She hasn’t really been alone with him since…since everything happened. 

Scott smiles at her. He looks a little tired. There are wrinkles around his eyes she hasn’t seen before. “Hi, princess. You awake enough to talk to me?” 

She nods sullenly. He lifts her and sits with her in the rocking chair, holding her tight so she won’t try to fight away. 

“You remember the man who came here last week, Ally?” 

“My dad,” she whispers. 

“That’s right. He used to be your dad.” Scott is choosing his words carefully. “He’s like Daddy and Mommy now. He’s a werewolf. So he’s going to be staying in town from now on.” 

Allison’s hear thumps painfully. Her dad is alive. That’s such a relief—but it’s scary at the same time. “A-am I going to go live with him now?” 

He won’t treat her like a baby, she knows that. He won’t even let her have her bunny. Her grandfather had thrown out all her stuffed animals when she was little. Her da had been annoyed when he found out, but he didn’t even apologize for it. The memory comes at her fast and stings. It’s been a while since she’s thought about her grandfather. 

“No, sweetheart. You’re staying here. But you can see him, if you want to. Do you want that?” 

Allison wriggles uncomfortably. “Alone?” 

“No. Mama or Daddy will be there. We just want you to be safe and as comfortable as possible.” Scott pauses. “It won’t be for a little while yet, sweetheart. Your…he needs to become a little more settled before you can see him.” 

“What if he tries to hurt you again?” She knows that Scott won’t hurt her father unprovoked, but she isn’t sure what her father will do when confronted with Scott and Kira. 

“That’s why we’re waiting. We know he’s not a bad man. He just needs to learn a little bit more about what it’s like to be a werewolf, and why we want to have you here with us, where you’re safe.” Scott wipes away a tear that’s snaked down Allison’s cheek. “It’s okay, Ally. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

“Can I think about it?” The idea of seeing her father is just so scary. What if he’s angry? What if he yells at her, for letting herself get taken or for the way she clings to Scott and Kira? For not fighting enough? Maybe he thinks it’s her fault he’s a werewolf now Maybe— 

“Of course you can, sweetheart.” Scott’s voice is soft. He kisses her forehead. “I know there are a lot of thoughts in your head. It’s okay. Daddy’s got you. We’ll figure it out together.” 

Allison closes her eyes, cuddling in close as Scott rocks her back and forth. 

X 

After Daddy fights the bad wolf Stiles is sleepy all day. He’d been so scared in the car. He’d thought Daddy wasn’t going to come back. 

If Daddy died…the thought bounces around crazily in Stiles’ head. He hates it. He would be all alone then. He couldn’t stay little if Daddy was gone…but how could he become big again? 

It used to be that he never thought about being big. But ever since the bad humans took him, it’s all he can think about. If he was big, would he be a bad human too? Would Daddy be mad at him? 

Daddy can tell that he’s got lots of thoughts in his head. After bathtime he cuddles Stiles for a long time in the rocking chair. “I think we need extra snuggles today,” he says conspiratorially, and Stiles nods in agreement. 

Before Daddy, nobody ever snuggled him. Not even when he was little, and especially not after he got big. Big people aren’t supposed to be snuggled. But Stiles is always so happy—when he’s being cuddled, and when he plays with his toys, and when Daddy tells him how special he is. So maybe it’s true, and he _is_ supposed to just be little forever. 

“Can you tell me a story?” he whispers as he nuzzles against Daddy’s chest. 

“Of course, sweetheart. What kind of story do you want?” 

Stiles thinks. Then he whispers: “Can you tell me a story where I’m big?” 

Daddy is quiet for a moment. “A story where you’re big, and then you become little?” 

“No. Just big.” 

Daddy doesn’t say anything for a while, and Stiles starts to get scared that maybe he’s in trouble. Then Daddy pats his back and starts to talk. “Okay, baby. Once upon a time there was a big boy named Stiles. He lived on his own in a big city. And…and he did grown-up things. He went to the bank, and he had a job, and he…he went out with other people.” 

“Where’s Daddy?” Stiles asks in a tiny voice. 

“Daddy can’t be there if Stiles is big.” Daddy’s voice is small too, and Stiles doesn’t like it. 

“Yes, he can! If it’s a story, he can do anything!” Stiles isn’t supposed to get loud. Usually Daddy would say he’s so grumpy that he must be too tired to finish the story, and he has to go into his crib right now. But today he only rubs a circle on Stiles’ back and kisses the top of his head. 

“Well…maybe Daddy is there too, then. Maybe Daddy is a human in this story. And he and Stiles are _good_ humans, and live together and don’t let any other bad humans hurt them.” Daddy’s voice is all halting like he isn’t sure how this story is supposed to go. Stiles tries to picture it in his head, but it’s too hard. It doesn’t feel right. If Stiles wasn’t little, Daddy wouldn’t be Daddy. He would be _Derek_ , and he would only be Stiles’ friend, or maybe his…his… 

It’s like his brain shuts off at the thought. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. 

“I don’t like this story,” he whimpers, feeling like he might start crying. “Can I have another one?” 

“Yes, you can. What story do you want?” 

“I…I want a story where I become little.” 

“That’s a better story,” Daddy says gently. “Okay. Once upon a time there was a big boy named Stiles. And he lived on his own in a big city. And he was so, so sad. Nobody was very nice to him. Stiles was such a good human, he was nice and kind and helpful, and other humans were jealous of it so they tried to hurt him in the hopes _he_ would become mean and bad, too. Somedays Stiles would come home and cry and cry because he wanted his Daddy, but he didn’t even know Daddy was out there looking for him. One night Stiles went out and had some drinks that made him sick to his tummy. When he tried to walk home he felt so yucky he had to go down a little alley to spit up.” 

That’s not quite right, Stiles remembers. He’d just gotten lost, he hadn’t been sick. But he doesn’t say anything. It’s better if Daddy just tells him how it was. 

“When he tried to leave the alley, some special people were there to take him home. But home wasn’t the yucky little apartment where Stiles had been living. Home was a magical place far away where Stiles never had to be hurt or sad again. There was someone waiting for him there. Do you know who it was?” 

Stiles beams and reaches up to touch Daddy’s nose. 

“That’s right, it was Daddy. Daddy got to hold his little Stiles and loved him so much he knew he would never let any bad humans hurt him again. And he wouldn’t let any bad wolves hurt him, either. Daddy was so happy every day he was able to spend with his baby boy. And little Stiles stayed with his Daddy forever…and ever…and ever.” Daddy’s voice is soft by the end of the story. He nuzzles against the top of Stiles’ head. “Is that a better story, sweetheart?” 

“That’s the _best_ story,” Stiles says decisively. He hugs Daddy tight around the middle. “In the story, can Stiles keep Daddy safe from bad wolves, too?” 

“That’s exactly what Stiles does. Because Daddy loves him so much that he _has_ to defeat all the bad wolves, so he can come home to his little prince. As long as Stiles loves Daddy, Daddy can do _anything_.” 

Stiles’ eyes light up. “So Stiles is magic too? Just like Daddy?” 

“Stiles is magic,” Daddy agrees. He kisses Stiles again and hugs him tight. “There are parts of that story you don’t even know,” he whispers. “Like how sad Daddy was before he found Stiles. It was like every day was rainy, and now there’s always sun.” 

Stiles likes that part of the story. As he snuggles with Daddy he thinks maybe there could be another story he might like where he’s big. Not where he and Daddy are both humans, but where they’re both werewolves. Then he wouldn’t need to be little. He could just be a werewolf with Daddy, and they could go hunting together and fight bad humans and bad wolves, and make sure nobody ever hurt the other. They could still live together and Stiles could do whatever he wanted, play with his toys and take naps and act big if that was just how he felt. 

That’s a good story too, but Daddy doesn’t need to tell it to him. He can just keep it deep in his heart, a story just for him and him alone. It has what every good story should have: a Daddy and a Stiles and no bad wolves or humans, forever and ever and ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts open: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gentlywithachainsawa03


End file.
